Significant as was his first hasty look round the room, he recovered at sight of me all his habitual SANG-FROID.

He saluted me, and spoke coolly, though rapidly.

But he panted, and I noticed in a moment that he had lost his lisp.
'I am happy in finding you,' he said, closing the door carefully behind him, 'for I am the bearer of ill news, and there is not a moment to be lost.

The king has signed an order for your instant consignment to prison, M.de Marsac, and, once there, it is difficult to say what may not happen.' 'My consignment ?' I exclaimed.

I may be pardoned if the news for a moment found me unprepared.
'Yes,' he replied quickly.