"Yes, a little before. Luckily, the innkeeper happened to be up, and he let me in."
I breathed more freely. This young man must have left La Flèche before I had: he could know nothing of the man slain.
"There is a good inn at La Flèche," I said, to continue the talk.
"No doubt. I stopped only a short while, at a small house at the edge of the town. I was in some haste."
"Then you will be starting early to-morrow?"
I resolved to be watchful and start at the same time. But lest he should have other company, or something should interfere, I decided not to lose the present opportunity. So I began forthwith:
"I have met a gentleman who comes, I think, from Montoire, or at least is acquainted there,--a Monsieur de Merri, of about my own age."
The young fellow looked at me with a sudden sharpness of curiosity, which took me back: but I did not change countenance, and he had repossessed himself by the time he replied:
"There is a Monsieur de Merri, who is about as old as you, but he does not live at Montoire. He sometimes comes there."
Here was comfort, at least: I should not find myself among the dead man's relations, seeking vengeance.
"No doubt he has friends there?" I ventured.
"No doubt, Monsieur," answered the young man, merely out of politeness, and looking vague.
"Probably he visits people in the neighbourhood," I tried again.
"I cannot say," was the reply, still more absently given.
"It may be so." The young fellow was now glancing about the kitchen, as if to rid himself of this talk.
"Or perhaps he dwells in private lodgings when he is at Montoire," I went on resolutely.
"It might well be. There are private lodgings to be had there."
"Do you know much of this Monsieur de Merri?" I asked pointblank, in desperation.
"Where? At Montoire, of course." The speaker, in surprise, scrutinized me again with the keen look he had shown before.
It was plain, from his manner, that he chose to be close-mouthed on the subject of Monsieur de Merri. He was one of those people who generally have a desire to talk of themselves and all their affairs, but who can be suddenly very secretive on some particular matter or occasion. I saw that I must give him up, for that time at least. Perhaps on the road next day his unwillingness to be communicative about Monsieur de Merri would have passed away. But meanwhile, what was the cause of that unwillingness? Did he know, after all, what had occurred at La Flèche, and had he begun to suspect me? I inwardly cursed his reticence, and went soon to bed, that I might rise the earlier.