"Oh! nothing that would interest you, madame."

After lighting her candle at the gas-burner, Mme. Gypsy said "Good-night" in a very significant way, and left the room.

"And what do you think of that, Mme. Alexandre?" questioned Fanferlot, emerging from his hiding-place.

"It is incredible! This girl writes to M. de Clameran to meet her here, and then does not wait for him."

"She evidently mistrusts us; she knows who I am."

"Then this friend of the cashier must have told her."

"Nobody knows who told her. I shall end by believing that I am among a gang of thieves. They think I am on their track, and are trying to escape me. I should not be at all surprised if this little rogue has the money herself, and intends to run off with it to-morrow."

"That is not my opinion; but listen to me: you had better take my advice, and consult M. Lecoq."

Fanferlot meditated awhile, then exclaimed.

"Very well; I will see him, just for your satisfaction; because I know that, if I have discovered nothing, neither has he. But, if he undertakes to be domineering, it won't do; for, if he shows his insolence to me, _I_ will make him know his place!"

Notwithstanding this brave speech, the detective passed an uneasy night, and at six o'clock the next morning he was up--it was necessary to rise very early if he wished to catch M. Lecoq at home--and, refreshed by a cup of strong coffee, he directed his steps toward the dwelling of the celebrated detective.

Fanferlot the Squirrel certainly was not afraid of his patron, as he called him; for he started out with his nose in the air, and his hat cocked on one side.

But by the time he reached the Rue Montmartre, where M. Lecoq lived, his courage had vanished; he pulled his hat over his eyes, and hung his head, as if looking for relief among the paving-stones. He slowly ascended the steps, pausing several times, and looking around as if he would like to fly.

Finally he reached the third floor, and stood before a door decorated with the arms of the famous detective--a cock, the symbol of vigilance--and his heart failed him so that he had scarcely the courage to ring the bell.

 Prev. P 71/436 next