“He is like this pepper-tree,” he said, aloud, “beautiful even in his deformity. No, I would not trade this pepper-tree for a dozen of the straightest trees in the world.” He stepped back from the window, and, lighting a lamp, set it upon a tottering walnut table. “Ah, André Fernet,” he mused, chidingly, “you are always snared by what is unusual. You should pray to God that such folly does not lead you to disaster.” He went to the window and looked out again. The pepper-tree seemed to be bending close to the ground, as if seeking to hide something. Presently the wind parted its branches and the moonlight fell at its feet like a silver moth before a blackened candle. André Fernet shivered and sighed. “Yes,” he repeated, again and again, “they are alike. They both are at once beautiful and hideous and they have strange secrets.... Well, I shall go on Thursday again, and maybe I shall see him. Who knows, if I am discreet he may tell me who killed this ridiculous musician Suvaroff.” And with that he suddenly blew out the light. On the next Thursday night, when Fernet entered the dining-room of the Hôtel de France his glance rested immediately upon Flavio Minetti. To his surprise the hunchback rose, drawing a chair out as he did so, and beckoning Fernet to be seated next him. For a moment Fernet hesitated, Berthe was just bringing on the soup. “What! Are you afraid?” she said, mockingly, as she passed. This decided Fernet. He went and sat beside Minetti without further ado. “Ah, I was expecting you!” cried the hunchback, genially, as he passed the radishes. “Expecting _me_?” returned Fernet. His voice trembled, though he tried to speak boldly. “Yes. Women are not the only inquisitive animals in the world. What will you have—some wine?” Fernet allowed Minetti to fill his glass. Other boarders began to drift in. Minetti turned his back upon Fernet, speaking to a new-comer at his left. He did not say another word all evening. Fernet ate and drank in silence. “What did I come for and why am I staying?” he kept asking himself. “This man is mocking me. First of all, he greets me as if I were his boon companion, and next he insults me openly and before everybody in the room. Even Berthe has noticed it and is smiling. As a matter of fact, he knows no more than I do about Suvaroff’s death.” But he continued to sit beside the hunchback all through the meal, and as fruit was put on the table he touched Minetti on the arm and said, “Will you join me in a _café royal_?” “Not here ... a little later. I can show you a place where they really know how to make them. And, besides, there are tables for just two. It is much more private.” Fernet’s heart bounded and sank almost in one leap. “Let us go now, then,” he said, eagerly. “As you wish,” replied Minetti. Fernet paid for two dinners, and they reached for their hats. “Where are you going?” asked Berthe, as she opened the door.