The priest studied Caderousse with a long, searching look, as if inviting the same scrutiny in return. Seeing nothing but surprise and confusion in the innkeeper's face, he decided to end the silent stare-down.
"You are, I presume, Mr. Caderousse?" he asked, speaking with a strong Italian accent.
"Yes, sir," Caderousse answered, even more surprised by the question than by the preceding silence. "I am Gaspard Caderousse, at your service."
"Gaspard Caderousse," the priest repeated. "Yes, the first and last names match. You used to live on Fourth Street, on the fourth floor?"
"I did."
"And you worked as a tailor?"
"True, I was a tailor until the trade died out. It gets so hot here that I swear the respectable people will eventually go naked! But speaking of heat, isn't there something I can offer you to drink?"
"Yes. Let me have a bottle of your best wine, and then we can continue our conversation where we left off."
