On entering the smoking-room we had found it deserted, but whilst Wareham
was speaking a couple of gentlemen had come in. One, I remember, was an
elderly, florid man, with mutton-chop whiskers and a buff waistcoat, who
took his stand beside the fireplace at the further end of the room and
puffed away at a big cigar. He looked inoffensive enough, and paid no
attention to us. But the other, a middle-aged individual, tall and slim,
with military moustaches, eyed us very keenly, changed his position two
or three times, and finally installed himself in a chair, whence, while
trifling with a cigarette, he commanded a good view of M. Zola's face.
Desmoulin, I think, was the first to notice this, and to call the
novelist's attention to it. Zola then shifted his position, and the
military looking gentleman soon did the same. At last, doubtless having
satisfied his curiosity, he left the room, not, however, without a sharp,
comprehensive survey of our party as he passed us on his way out.
I do not now exactly remember how it happened that Wareham was not
received in the 'dungeon,' instead of the smoking-room.
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