He was beginning to forget the whole affair again, when in the course
of March, 1824, he heard talk of a peculiar character who lived in the
parish of St. Médard, and was surnamed the "beggar who gives alms."
This man was said to be an annuitant, whose name no one exactly knew,
and who lived alone with a little girl of eight years of age, who
knew nothing about herself except that she came from Montfermeil.
Montfermeil! that name constantly returned, and made Javert prick
up his ears. An old begging spy, an ex-beadle, to whom this person
was very charitable, added a few more details. "He was a very stern
person; he never went out till night; he spoke to nobody, except
to the poor now and then, and let no one approach him. He wore a
horrible old yellow coat, which was worth several millions, as it was
lined all through with bank-notes." This decidedly piqued Javert's
curiosity. In order to see this annuitant closer without startling
him, he one day borrowed the beadle's rags and the place where the old
spy crouched every evening, snuffling his orisons through his nose,
and spying between his prayers. "The suspicious individual" really
came up to Javert, thus travestied, and gave him alms. At this moment
Javert raised his head, and the shock which Jean Valjean received on
fancying that he recognized Javert, Javert received on fancying that
he recognized Jean Valjean. Still, the darkness might have deceived
him; and Jean Valjean's death was official. Javert felt serious doubts;
and when in doubt, Javert, a scrupulous man, never put his hand on
the person's collar. He followed his man to No. 50-52, and made the
old woman talk, which was no difficult task. She confirmed the fact
of the great-coat lined with millions, and told the story about the
thousand-franc note; she had seen it; she had felt it! Javert hired a
room, and took possession of it that same night. He listened at the
door of the mysterious lodger, in the hope of hearing his voice; but
Jean Valjean saw his candle through the key-hole, and foiled the spy by
holding his tongue.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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