“Monsieur had good sport in the country?” he asked me.

“Excellent, Louis!” I answered.  “How are things in town?”

Louis shrugged his shoulders and glanced around.

“As one sees,” he answered, “here we are fortunate.  Here we are always, always busy.  We turn people away all the time, because we prefer to serve well our old customers.”

“Louis,” I said, “you are wonderful!”

“What will the gentlemen eat?” Louis asked.

I looked at Lamartine, and Lamartine looked at me.  The same thought was in the minds of both of us.  Curiously enough we felt a certain delicacy in letting Louis perceive our dilemma!

“Those cold grouse look excellent,” Lamartine said to me, pointing to the sideboard.

“Cold grouse are very good,” Louis assented.  “I will have one specially prepared and sent up.”

Lamartine shook his head.

“Bring over the dish there, and let us look at them, Louis,” he said.

Louis obeyed him.  There was no alternative.  Lamartine, without hesitation, coolly took one of the birds on to his own plate.

“Our luncheon is arranged for, Louis,” he said.  “Let a waiter bring us a dish and carving-knife.  I like to carve myself at the table.”

“But certainly!” Louis assented, and, calling a waiter, he glided away.  Lamartine and I exchanged glances.

“I fancy we are pretty safe with this bird,” he remarked.

“Absolutely,” I answered.  “He never had the ghost of a chance to tamper with it.  The question of drinks is a little difficult,” I continued.

“And I am very thirsty,” Lamartine said.  “An unopened bottle of hock, eh?”

I shook my head.

“No good,” I answered.  “I am convinced that Louis has a cellar of his own.  Did you notice the fellow, by the bye?” I went on.  “He shows signs of the worry of this thing.  Somehow or other I do not fancy that Louis will be in this place a week from to-day.”

“That may be,” Lamartine answered, “but I must drink!”

There was a bottle of whiskey upon the table next to us, from which its occupant had been helping himself.  He rose now to go, and I seized the opportunity the moment he had left, and before the waiter could clear the table I had secured the bottle.

“We won’t risk soda-water,” I said.  “Whiskey and water is good enough.”

The one waiter whom I disliked—­a creature of Louis’, as I knew well—­came hurrying forward and endeavored to possess himself of the bottle.

“Let me get you another bottle of whiskey, sir,” he said.

I shook my head.

“This one will do, thank you,” I said.

“Soda-water or Perrier, sir?” he asked.

“Neither, thank you,” I answered.

The man moved away, and I saw him in a corner talking to Louis.  Lamartine served the grouse, and leaned across the table to me.

“Captain Rotherby,” he said, “I think I will tell you now why, notwithstanding the risk of Monsieur Louis, I asked you to lunch with me here at this restaurant.  But look!  See who comes!”