CHAPTER VIII. THE OLIVE-GREEN FROCK-COAT
A quarter past twelve, in a restaurant near the Madeleine. The prince is at lunch. Two young men sit down at the next table. He bows to them and begins to speak to them, as to friends whom he has met by chance.
"Are you going on the expedition, eh?"
"Yes."
"How many men altogether?"
"Six, I think. Each goes down by himself. We're to meet M. Weber at a quarter to two, near the House of Retreat."
"Very well, I shall be there."
"What?"
"Am I not leading the expedition? And isn't it my business to find M. Lenormand, seeing that I've announced it publicly?"
"Then you believe that M. Lenormand is not dead, governor?"
"I'm sure of it."
"Do you know anything?"
"Yes, since yesterday I know for certain that Altenheim and his g**g took M. Lenorma
