“What was the word?” he asked.
“Gypsy.”
“Which is the name of the cashier’s grisette. Now keep your eyes open.
The day you find a man sufficiently intimate with Prosper to be aware of
all the circumstances connected with this name, and at the same time on
a footing with the Fauvel family which would give him the privilege
of entering M. Fauvel’s chamber, then, and not until then, will you
discover the guilty party. On that day the problem will be solved.”
Self-sufficient and vain, like all famous men, M. Lecoq had never had a
pupil, and never wished to have one. He worked alone, because he hated
assistants, wishing to share neither the pleasures of success nor the
pain of defeat.
Thus Fanferlot, who knew his patron’s character, was surprised to hear
him giving advice, who heretofore had only given orders.
He was so puzzled, that in spite of his pre-occupation he could not help
betraying his surprise.
“Patron,” he ventured to say, “you seem to take a great interest in this
affair, you have so deeply studied it.”