A FRENCHMAN AND A MATTRESS
he opened the door. On the table in the sitting-room was a savory dish, bread, and two bottles of wine. Captain Sterkoff was just surveying the board he had spread, with his head on one side. There was nothing peculiar in that; his head was permanently stuck on one side—a list to starboard—since the Virgin with the lamp had injured the vertebrae of his neck. But the attitude, together with his beaked nose, made him look like a particularly vicious parrot. Markart saw him through the open door and could not get the resemblance out of his mind.
"Supper, gentlemen!" said Sterkoff with malevolent mirth. "The Doctor can't join you. He's a little upset and keeps his bed. A good appetite! I trust not to be obliged to disturb you again to-night."
Markart had come in by now, but he was too surly and sore to speak. Without a word he plumped down into a chair by the table and rested his chin on his hands, staring at the cloth. It was left to Lepage to bow to Sterkoff, and to express their joint thanks. This task he performed with sufficient urbanity. Then he broke into a laugh.
"They must think it odd to see you carrying dishes and bottles about the Palace, Captain?"
"Possibly," agreed Sterkoff "But you see, my friend, what they think in the Palace doesn't matter very much, so long as none of them can get outside."
"Oh, they none of them spend the evening out?"
"Would they wish to, when the King has an attack of influenza, and Dr. Natcheff is in attendance? It would be unfeeling, Lepage!"
"Horribly, Captain! Probably even the sentries would object?"
"It's possible they would," Sterkoff agreed again. He drew himself up and saluted Markart, who did
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