“Lieutenant Feraud at home?” he inquired benevolently.

“Oh, no, sir.  He went out at six this morning.”

And the little maid tried to close the door, but Lieutenant D’Hubert, opposing this move with gentle firmness, stepped into the anteroom jingling his spurs.

“Come, my dear.  You don’t mean to say he has not been home since six o’clock this morning?”

Saying these words, Lieutenant D’Hubert opened without ceremony the door of a room so comfortable and neatly ordered that only from internal evidence in the shape of boots, uniforms and military accoutrements, did he acquire the conviction that it was Lieutenant Feraud’s room.  And he saw also that Lieutenant Feraud was not at home.  The truthful maid had followed him and looked up inquisitively.

“H’m,” said Lieutenant D’Hubert, greatly disappointed, for he had already visited all the haunts where a lieutenant of hussars could be found of a fine afternoon.  “And do you happen to know, my dear, why he went out at six this morning?”

“No,” she answered readily.  “He came home late at night and snored.  I heard him when I got up at five.  Then he dressed himself in his oldest uniform and went out.  Service, I suppose.”

“Service?  Not a bit of it!” cried Lieutenant D’Hubert.  “Learn, my child, that he went out so early to fight a duel with a civilian.”

She heard the news without a quiver of her dark eyelashes.  It was very obvious that the actions of Lieutenant Feraud were generally above criticism.  She only looked up for a moment in mute surprise, and Lieutenant D’Hubert concluded from this absence of emotion that she must have seen Lieutenant Feraud since the morning.  He looked around the room.

“Come,” he insisted, with confidential familiarity.  “He’s perhaps somewhere in the house now?”

She shook her head.

“So much the worse for him,” continued Lieutenant D’Hubert, in a tone of anxious conviction.  “But he has been home this morning?”

This time the pretty maid nodded slightly.

“He has!” cried Lieutenant D’Hubert.  “And went out again?  What for?  Couldn’t he keep quietly indoors?  What a lunatic!  My dear child....”

Lieutenant D’Hubert’s natural kindness of disposition and strong sense of comradeship helped his powers of observation, which generally were not remarkable.  He changed his tone to a most insinuating softness; and gazing at the hussar’s breeches hanging over the arm of the girl, he appealed to the interest she took in Lieutenant Feraud’s comfort and happiness.  He was pressing and persuasive.  He used his eyes, which were large and fine, with excellent effect.  His anxiety to get hold at once of Lieutenant Feraud, for Lieutenant Feraud’s own good, seemed so genuine that at last it overcame the girl’s discretion.  Unluckily she had not much to tell.  Lieutenant Feraud had returned home shortly before ten; had walked straight into his room and had thrown himself on his bed to resume his slumbers.  She had heard him snore rather louder than before far into the afternoon.  Then he got up, put on his best uniform and went out.  That was all she knew.