His glance found the faces of the Cure, the avocat, and the auctioneer;
and his eyes steadied to Medallion's humorous look, to the Cure's puzzled
questioning, to the avocat's bird-like curiosity. It was plain they were
not antagonistic (why should they be?); and he--was there any reason why
he should care whether or no they were for him or against him?
True, he had entered the village in the dead of night, with many packages
and much luggage, had roused the people at the Louis Quinze, the driver
who had brought him departing before daybreak gaily, because of the gifts
of gold given him above his wage. True, this singular gentleman had taken
three rooms in the Louis Quinze, had paid the landlord in advance, and
had then gone to bed, leaving word that he was not to be waked till three
o'clock the next afternoon. True, the landlord could not by any hint or
indirection discover from whence his midnight visitor came. But if a
gentleman paid his way, and was generous and polite, and minded his own
business, wherefore should people busy themselves about him? When he
appeared on the veranda of the inn with the hot pennies, not a half-dozen
people in the village had known aught of his presence in Pontiac.
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