‟GOOD day, François,” said d’Enneris, stepping lightly into the courtyard.
“Good day, sir,” said the old butler. “You’re quite a stranger. . . .”
“Indeed I am,” said Jean, who often had his little joke with François and thought the old man could not have been warned about him. “Yes, indeed! Family affairs . . . a legacy from an uncle in the country—close on a million.”
“My congratulations, sir.”
“Oh, I haven’t made up my mind to take it yet.”
“Not take it, sir?”
“No. It happens to be a million in—debts!”
This bit of innocent badinage pleased Jean. He felt almost carefree. But, at that very moment, he noticed the net curtain flapping wildly at one of the windows, but not so wildly as to disguise Chief Inspector Béchoux, playing Sister Anne in an ante-room on the ground floor.
“I see
