And M. Mifroid, replacing his gleaming glasses on his nose, fixed the stage-manager with a contemplative stare.

“So Mauclair takes snuff, does he?” he asked carelessly.

“Yes, Mr. Commissary.⁠ ⁠… Look, there is his snuffbox on that little shelf.⁠ ⁠… Oh, he’s a great snuff-taker!”

“So am I,” said Mifroid and put the snuffbox in his pocket.