Duprèz and Macfarlane exchanged astonished looks.
"Are ye quite sure," the latter ventured to remark cautiously, "that ye're prudent in what ye have done? Remember ye have asked no pairson at a' to dine with ye as yet,--it's a vera sudden an' exceptional freak o' hospitality."
Errington smoked on peacefully and made no answer. Duprèz hummed a verse of a French chansonnette under his breath and smiled. Lorimer glanced at him with a lazy amusement.
"Unburden yourself, Pierre, for heaven's sake!" he said. "Your mind is as uncomfortable as a loaded camel. Let it lie down, while you take off its packages, one by one, and reveal their contents. In short, what's up?"
Duprèz made a rapid, expressive gesture with his hands.
"Mon cher, I fear to displease Phil-eep! He has invited these people; they are coming,--bien! there is no more to say."
"I disagree with ye," interposed Macfarlane "I think Errington should hear what we ha' heard; it's fair an' just to a mon that he should understand what sort o' folk are gaun to pairtake wi' him at his table. Ye see, Errington, ye should ha' thought a wee, before inviting pairsons o' unsettled an' dootful chairacter--"
"Who says they are?" demanded Errington half-angrily. "The drunken Dyceworthy?"
"He was no sae drunk at the time he tauld us." persisted Macfarlane in his most obstinate, most dictatorial manner. "Ye see, it's just this way--"
"Ah, pardon!" interrupted Duprèz briskly. "Our dear Sandy is an excellent talker, but he is a little slow. Thus it is, mon cher Errington. This gentleman named Güldmar had a most lovely wife--a mysterious lady, with an evident secret. The beautiful one was never seen in the church or in any town or village; she was met sometimes on hills, by rivers, in valleys, carrying her child in her arms. The people grew afraid of her; but, now, see what happens! Suddenly, she appears no more; some one ventures to ask this Monsieur Güldmar, 'What has become of Madame?' His answer is brief. 'She is dead!' Satisfactory so far, yet not quite; for, Madame being dead, then what has become of the corpse of Madame? It was never seen,--no coffin was ever ordered,--and apparently it was never buried! Bien! What follows? The good people of Bosekop draw the only conclusion possible--Monsieur Güldmar, who is said to have a terrific temper, killed Madame and made away with her body. Voilà!"