I encouraged him by a friendly tap on the shoulder, and he confided his secret to me. He whispered in my ear that the Regent had promised twenty thousand pounds to whoever would arrest the Enfant, and he knew where the Enfant was hiding. That I looked to him like a man of courage, and that he, with my aid, would do anything to get the 20,000 pounds. He said that he would divide the reward. “The old man Bidel was on the wrong track, Signor Petito, for I also knew where to find L’Enfant, seeing that I was that person.” Signor Petito did not wish to believe any of this, as he could see for himself that M. Longuet had been out of infancy a good many years. However, he dared not say anything. Théophraste continued, “I replied to the old man Bidel, that it was a happy chance and that I thanked Heaven for putting him in my path, and I made him conduct me to the place where he could find the Enfaut. He said to me, ‘To-night, the Enfant sleeps at the Capucine, in the Tavern Suite, which bears as a sign the Cross of the St. Hester.’ “It was true, Signor Petito, the old man Bidel was very well informed. I congratulated him, and we passed just then a cutlery shop, and I bought a small knife, much to the astonishment of Bidel, who asked me what I planned to do with such a weapon. I replied to him that with a small knife like this one could kill a fly, and I plunged it into his heart. He sank down, raised his arms wildly for a few moments, and died.” Signor Petito, who at first had moved away from Théophraste, now rose and ran to the door, and was glad to get out of sight. M. Longuet drank his wine, got up and went to the Bousset Brewery, where Mme. Barth was standing, making up her books. He said to her, “Mme. Taconet-------” Mme. Barth demanded why he called her Mine. Taconet, but he disregarded her question, and continued, “If Signor Petito comes here again, you will tell him for me that the first time I find him in my way, I will cut his ears off.” Saying this, Théophraste fondled the handle of his umbrella as one grasps the handle of a dagger. There was no doubt about it, he had his black plume. He had become the Other entirely. The fog was still thick and he did not think of breakfasting yet. He walked into the sulphurous mist like one in a dream. He crossed the whole of the Quarter of An tin, and that which was formerly the Avenue L’Enrique, until he came under the shadows of the towers of Trinity, which he called the Chateau du Coq. On his arrival at the St. Lazare, he believed that he was at the Petite Pologue.