“Who can have told you?”
“Goudar himself. I like that man. I am sure no one will suspect me of
having a fancy for any thing that is connected with the police. I have
had too much to do all my life with spies and that ilk. But your man
might almost reconcile me with that department.”
“When did you see him?”
“This morning at seven. He was so prodigiously tired of losing his
time in his garret at the Red Lamb, that it occurred to him to
pretend illness, and to send for me. I went, and found a kind of
street-minstrel, who seemed to me to be perfectly well. But, as soon
as we were alone, he told me all about it, asking me my opinion, and
telling me his ideas. M. Folgat, that man Goudar is very clever: I tell
you so; and we understand each other perfectly.”
“Has he told you what he proposes to do?”
“Nearly so. But he has not authorized me to speak of it. Have patience;
let him go to work, wait, and you will see if old Seignebos has a keen
scent.”
Saying this with an air of sublime conceit, he took off his spectacles,
and set to work wiping them industriously.
“Well, I will wait,” said the young advocate. “And, since that makes an
end to my business here, I beg you will let me speak to you of another
matter. M. de Boiscoran has charged me with a message to the Countess
Claudieuse.”
“The deuce!”
“And to try to obtain from her the means for our discharge.”
“Do you expect she will do it?”