“The game needs hunting. Well, Joseph, my boy, do you still think that
your noble master was duped by your acting injured innocence?”
“You assured me to the contrary, patron,” said Joseph in an humble tone;
“and your opinion is more convincing than all the proofs in the world.”
“This pretended outburst of rage was premeditated on the part of your
noble master. Knowing that he is being tracked, he naturally wishes to
discover who his adversaries are. You can imagine how uncomfortable he
must be at this uncertainty. Perhaps he thinks his pursuers are some of
his old accomplices, who, being starved, want a piece of his cake. He
will remain there until you come out: then he will come in to find out
who you are.”
“But, patron, I can go home without his seeing me.”
“Yes, I know. You will climb the little wall separating the Archangel
from the wine-merchant’s yard, and keep along the stationer’s area,
until you reach the Rue de la Huchette.”
Poor Joseph looked as if he had just received a bucket of ice-water upon
his head.
“Exactly the way I was going, patron,” he gasped out. “I heard that you
knew every plank and door of all the houses in Paris, and it certainly
must be so.”
The fat man made no reply to Joseph’s admiring remarks. He was thinking
how he could catch Clameran.
As to the cashier, he listened wonderingly, watching these strangers,
who seemed determined to reinstate him in public opinion, and punish his
enemies, while he himself stood by powerless and bewildered. What their
motives for befriending him could be, he vainly tried to discover.
“I will tell you what I can do,” said Joseph after deep thought.
“What is it?”
“I can innocently walk out of the front door, and loaf along the street
until I reach the Hotel du Louvre.”
“And then?”
“Dame! Clameran will come in and question Mme. Alexandre, whom you can
instruct beforehand; and she is smart enough to put any sharper off the
track.”
“Bad plan!” pronounced M. Verduret decidedly; “a scamp so compromised
as Clameran is not easily put off the track; now his eyes are opened, he
will be pretty hard to catch.”
Suddenly, in a brief tone of authority which admitted of no
contradiction, the fat man said:
“I have a way. Has Clameran, since he found that his papers had been
searched, seen Lagors?”
“No, patron.”
“Perhaps he has written to him?”
“I’ll bet you my head he has not. Having your orders to watch his
correspondence, I invented a little system which informs me every time
he touches a pen; during the last twenty-four hours the pens have not
been touched.”
“Clameran went out yesterday.”
“But the man who followed him says he wrote nothing on the way.”
“Then we have time yet!” cried Verduret. “Hurry! Hurry! I give you
fifteen minutes to make yourself a head; you know the sort; I will watch
the rascal until you come up.”
The delighted Joseph disappeared in a twinkling; while Prosper and M.
Verduret remained at the window observing Clameran, who, according to
the movements of the crowd, was sometimes lost to sight, and sometimes
just in front of the window, but was evidently determined not to quit
his post until he had obtained the information he sought.
“Why do you devote yourself exclusively to the marquis?” asked Prosper.
“Because, my friend,” replied M. Verduret, “because--that is my
business, and not yours.”
Joseph Dubois had been granted a quarter of an hour in which to
metamorphose himself; before ten minutes had elapsed he reappeared.
The dandified coachman with Bergami whiskers, red vest, and foppish
manners, was replaced by a sinister-looking individual, whose very
appearance was enough to scare any rogue.
His black cravat twisted around a paper collar, and ornamented by an
imitation diamond pin; his long-tailed black boots and heavy cane,
revealed the employee of the Rue de Jerusalem, as plainly as the
shoulder-straps mark a soldier.
Joseph Dubois had vanished forever; and from his livery, phoenix-like
and triumphant, arose the radiant Fanferlot, surnamed the Squirrel.
When Fanferlot entered the room, Prosper uttered a cry of surprise and
almost fright.
He recognized the man who had assisted the commissary of police to
examine the bank on the day of the robbery.