H. DE SAYNTHINE
Hilaire had been in the service of his new master for several days. So
far, he was extremely satisfied with his new and singular position. His
pay was by no means small. When he first called on M. de Saynthine he
was subjected to a searching scrutiny, and his master said: "He looks an
ass, but he must be pretty quick-witted."
Such criticism was hardly likely to meet with Hilaire's approval, but he
was consoled by the first part of the sentence, and he said to himself:
"I look what I wish to look at the moment."
After closing the door of the study in which he interviewed him, M. de
Saynthine, who was a well set-up, middle-aged man, went on arranging his
tie before the glass, which enabled him to watch Hilaire's every
movement.
"You were recommended to me, my lad," he said, "by a friend of Mlle.
Nina Noha, who told me that you have a very reliable character" (M.
Hilaire bowed), "and are so discreet that you would even decline to tell
me the extent of your zeal in your late master's interests. I understood
that you rendered him very substantial services, which were only
interrupted by the unexpected outbreak of war. That suits me admirably.
I am told, also, that you are not the sort of man to work for nothing,
and your devotion doesn't run counter to your interests. I will give you
a thousand francs a month. Will that satisfy you?"
"That will suit me to begin with," returned Hilaire, without moving a
muscle.
"Then we are agreed," concluded M. de Saynthine. "But it is understood
that you do absolutely as you're told without asking questions, or
endeavoring to understand what is not explained to you; and you will
pretend not to understand when you do understand. Moreover, you must not
be surprised at anything."
"Monsieur, that's settled. It's just the sort of place that I've been
looking for."
"Well, go and see M. Onésime Belon, who will tell you what you have to
do from day to day. He is the man with whom you will have to deal when
it's a question of any special business. You must take your orders from
him as though he were myself. . . ."
Hilaire was also extremely satisfied with M. Onésime Belon. Taken all
round, the situation was an easy one.
Hilaire had sharp ears and an inquiring eye. When he had a moment to
spare he went to report the result of his observations to the
hall-porter at Dr. Ross's, for the Boulevard Victor Hugo, in which the
dentist lived, was not far away.
Dr. Ross never received patients after five o'clock in the afternoon.
Thus, at that hour the hall-porter would close his office. He was a
queer porter, for, in order not to be disturbed by the night bell, he
rented and slept in a small house at St. Jean, on the sea coast, not far
from Cape Ferrat.
Now and then the Dodger found time to go with him, even to this distant
neighborhood.
One night, as they were passing near Mont Boron, they met a certain
peddler of rugs, who must have said some very unpleasant things to them,
for a more or less violent quarrel ensued. The Dodger was very excited
about it when he left his friend a quarter of an hour later at the
cross-way on the road from Villefranche.
"That's one point scored," he said with a deep sigh.
"Oh, that man doesn't count," returned Chéri-Bibi in his gruff voice.