"Now, then, spout it out. What's your riddle?"
"It isn't exactly a riddle. I wanted to ask you who you think is the best man in this neighbourhood?"
"I am!"
"And why do you think that? Isn't there any one here better than you are?"
"You ask me what I think. Very well, I answer that I won't give the first place to any one."
"You're right. And the miller, what sort of a man is he?"
"The miller?"
The soldier blew out of his mouth a cloud of smoke that looked as large in the moonlight as the tail of a white horse. Then he eyed the devil askance and asked:
"You're not a Customs officer, are you?"
"No!"
"And you're not in the police—a detective, by any chance?"
"No, no, I tell you! What, a clever chap like you, and you can't even see when a man's just an ordinary fellow and when he isn't?"
"Who said I couldn't? I can see through and through you. I only asked that on the chance. And now, let me see; you asked me what sort of man the miller was?"
"Yes."
