He swore fearfully, his face black, his moustachios stiff with rage.
'What is this?
What is it ?' he cried.

'Where is the man ?' 'What man ?' I said.
'This Cocheforet!' he roared, carried away by his passion.

'Don't lie to me! He is here, and I will have him!' 'You are too late,' I said, watching him heedfully.

'M.

de Cocheforet is here, but he has already surrendered to me, and is my prisoner.' 'Your prisoner ?' 'Certainly!' I answered, facing the man with all the harshness I could muster.