M. Plantat bowed, saying:

"I am waiting here for Monsieur Lecoq."

The man in gold spectacles burst out laughing, and clapped his hands

with glee.

"What, dear sir," said he, "don't you know me? Look at me well--it is

I--Monsieur Lecoq!" And to convince him, he took off his spectacles.

Those might, indeed, be Lecoq's eyes, and that his voice; M. Plantat was

confounded.

"I never should have recognized you," said he.

"It's true, I have changed a little--but what would you have? It's my

trade."

And pushing a chair toward his visitor, he pursued:

"I have to beg a thousand pardons for the formalities you've had to

endure to get in here; it's a dire necessity, but one I can't help. I

have told you of the dangers to which I am exposed; they pursue me to my

very door. Why, last week a railway porter brought a package here

addressed to me. Janouille--that's my old woman--suspected nothing,

though she has a sharp nose, and told him to come in. He held out the

package, I went up to take it, when pif! paf! off went two pistol-shots.

The package was a revolver wrapped up in oilcloth, and the porter was a

convict escaped from Cayenne, caught by me last year. Ah, I put him

through for this though!"

He told this adventure carelessly, as if it were the most natural thing

in the world.

"But let's not starve ourselves to death," he continued, ringing the

bell. The old hag appeared, and he ordered her to bring on breakfast

forthwith, and above all, some good wine.

"You are observing my Janouille," remarked he, seeing that M. Plantat

looked curiously at the servant. "She's a pearl, my dear friend, who

watches over me as if I were her child, and would go through the fire

for me. I had a good deal of trouble the other day to prevent her

strangling the false railway porter. I picked her out of three or four

thousand convicts. She had been convicted of infanticide and arson. I

would bet a hundred to one that, during the three years that she has

been in my service, she has not even thought of robbing me of so much as

a centime."

But M. Plantat only listened to him with one ear; he was trying to find

an excuse for cutting Janouille's story short, and to lead the

conversation to the events of the day before.

"I have, perhaps, incommoded you a little this morning, Monsieur Lecoq?"

"Me? then you did not see my motto--'always vigilant?' Why, I've been

out ten times this morning; besides marking out work for three of my

men. Ah, we have little time to ourselves, I can tell you. I went to the

Vulcan's Forges to see what news I could get of that poor devil of a

Guespin."

"And what did you hear?"

"That I had guessed right. He changed a five-hundred-franc note there

last Wednesday evening at a quarter before ten."

"That is to say, he is saved?"

"Well, you may say so. He will be, as soon as we have found Miss Jenny."

The old justice of the peace could not avoid showing his uneasiness.

"That will, perhaps, be long and difficult?"

"Bast! Why so? She is on my black ball there--we shall have her,

accidents excepted, before night."

"You really think so?"

"I should say I was sure, to anybody but you. Reflect that this girl has

been connected with the Count de Tremorel, a man of the world, a prince

of the mode. When a girl falls to the gutter, after having, as they say,

dazzled all Paris for six months with her luxury, she does not disappear

entirely, like a stone in the mud. When she has lost all her friends

there are still her creditors, who follow and watch her, awaiting the

day when fortune will smile on her once more. She doesn't trouble

herself about them, she thinks they've forgotten her; a mistake! I know

a milliner whose head is a perfect dictionary of the fashionable world;

she has often done me a good turn. We will go and see her if you say so,

after breakfast, and in two hours she will give us Jenny's address. Ah,

if I were only as sure of pinching Tremorel!"

M. Plantat gave a sigh of relief. The conversation at last took the turn

he wished.

"You are thinking of him, then?" asked he.

"Am I?" shouted M. Lecoq, who started from his seat at the question.

"Now just look at my black ball there. I haven't thought of anybody

else, mark you, since yesterday; I haven't had a wink of sleep all night

for thinking of him. I must have him, and I will!"

"I don't doubt it; but when?"

"Ah, there it is! Perhaps to-morrow, perhaps in a month; it depends on

the correctness of my calculations and the exactness of my plan."

"What, is your plan made?"

"And decided on."

The Mystery of Orcival · 第 93 / 111 题