Francis did not wait to be twice told; he ran precipitately from the
theatre into the middle of the street and looked in all directions.
More than one white-haired man was within sight; but though he overtook
each of them in succession, all wanted the sabre-cut. For nearly
half-an-hour he tried one street after another in the neighbourhood,
until at length, recognising the folly of continued search, he started
on a walk to compose his agitated feelings; for this proximity of an
encounter with him to whom he could not doubt he owed the day had
profoundly moved the young man.
It chanced that his way lay up the Rue Drouot and thence up the Rue des
Martyrs; and chance, in this case, served him better than all the
forethought in the world. For on the outer boulevard he saw two men in
earnest colloquy upon a seat. One was dark, young, and handsome,
secularly dressed, but with an indelible clerical stamp; the other
answered in every particular to the description given him by the clerk.
Francis felt his heart beat high in his bosom; he knew he was now about
to hear the voice of his father; and making a wide circuit, he
noiselessly took his place behind the couple in question, who were too
much interested in their talk to observe much else. As Francis had
expected, the conversation was conducted in the English language.
“Your suspicions begin to annoy me, Rolles,” said the older man. “I
tell you I am doing my utmost; a man cannot lay his hand on millions in
a moment. Have I not taken you up, a mere stranger, out of pure
good-will? Are you not living largely on my bounty?”
“On your advances, Mr. Vandeleur,” corrected the other.
“Advances, if you choose; and interest instead of goodwill, if you
prefer it,” returned Vandeleur angrily. “I am not here to pick
expressions. Business is business; and your business, let me remind
you, is too muddy for such airs. Trust me, or leave me alone and find
some one else; but let us have an end, for God’s sake, of your
jeremiads.”
“I am beginning to learn the world,” replied the other, “and I see that
you have every reason to play me false, and not one to deal honestly. I
am not here to pick expressions either; you wish the diamond for
yourself; you know you do—you dare not deny it. Have you not already
forged my name, and searched my lodging in my absence? I understand the
cause of your delays; you are lying in wait; you are the diamond
hunter, forsooth; and sooner or later, by fair means or foul, you’ll
lay your hands upon it. I tell you, it must stop; push me much further
and I promise you a surprise.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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