“Was he in the wars?”
“I think he entered the service.”
“In what branch?”
“In the navy.”
“Are you not his confessor?”
“No, sir; I believe he is a Lutheran.”
“A Lutheran?”
“I say, I believe such is the case, I do not affirm it; besides, liberty of conscience is established in France.”
“Doubtless, and we are not now inquiring into his creed, but his actions; in the name of the prefect of police, I ask you what you know of him.
“He passes for a very charitable man. Our holy father, the pope, has made him a knight of Jesus Christ for the services he rendered to the Christians in the East; he has five or six rings as testimonials from Eastern monarchs of his services.”
“Does he wear them?”
“No, but he is proud of them; he is better pleased with rewards given to the benefactors of man than to his destroyers.”
“He is a Quaker then?”
“Exactly, he is a Quaker, with the exception of the peculiar dress.”
“Has he any friends?”
“Yes, everyone who knows him is his friend.”
“But has he any enemies?”
“One only.”
“What is his name?”
“Lord Wilmore.”
“Where is he?”
“He is in Paris just now.”
“Can he give me any particulars?”
“Important ones; he was in India with Zaccone.”
“Do you know his abode?”
“It’s somewhere in the Chaussée d’Antin; but I know neither the street nor the number.”
“Are you at variance with the Englishman?”
“I love Zaccone, and he hates him; we are consequently not friends.”