It had gone half-past eleven before Froissart came, a boisterous, triumphant Froissart, bragging of his skill and his success in the manner of a born Gascon.
"It was tremendous, _mon ami_," roared Froissart, unchecked by Dawson's scowls. "I have done the blooming trick: the boat has gone to Holland, and the filthy spy is in the strong lock-up. My vigilance, my astuteness, my resource unfathomable, my flair, my soul of an artist, my patience inexhaustible, my address so firm and yet so delicate, my mastery of the minds of those others less gifted, my--"
"Unfailing insight, _mon esprit français_, my genius for the service of police, my unshakable courage and élan, have had their just and inevitable reward. The boat with the message so false has gone to Holland for the German Kaiser to gloat over, and the filthy spy is in the safe lock-up. I took him with my own hands--I, le Comte de Froissart, I bemired my hands by contact with his foul carcase. The boat it flew down the river; _ma foi_, like a flash of the lightning, going they said thirty knots, _presque cinquante kilomètres par heure_. The glorious _Marine Anglaise_ will see that it reaches les Pays Bas, and then when it is of return your sailors so splendid, with sang-froid so perfect, will gobble it up. Just gobble it up. As I will gobble up this cold beef upon your table. _Peste_, I am of a hunger excruciating. I have not eaten for five, six, ten hours."
Froissart sat down at Dawson's table, where still lay the cold remains of his supper--he had had the decency to reflect that his colleague Froissart might be hungry upon arrival--and fell to eating copiously and loudly. The French are least admirable when they are seen devouring food.
Froissart ate while Dawson writhed. Though his colleague's success would plant laurels upon his own brow--little would he ever say at the Yard of that journey to Burnham and the preposterous funeral--he was jealous, bitterly jealous. I am by special appointment the Boswell of Dawson, yet I do not spare the feelings of my subject. Rather do I go over them with a rake--for the ultimate good of Dawson's variegated soul. He was bitterly jealous, but from natural curiosity yearned to know the details of those feats of which Froissart prated so triumphantly. And all the while, unconscious, heedless of his wrathful exasperated chieftain, Froissart devoured food in immense quantities. It was a disgusting exhibition.