"But let's not starve ourselves to death," he continued, ringing the
bell. The old hag appeared, and he ordered her to bring on breakfast
forthwith, and above all, some good wine.
"You are observing my Janouille," remarked he, seeing that M. Plantat
looked curiously at the servant. "She's a pearl, my dear friend, who
watches over me as if I were her child, and would go through the fire
for me. I had a good deal of trouble the other day to prevent her
strangling the false railway porter. I picked her out of three or four
thousand convicts. She had been convicted of infanticide and arson. I
would bet a hundred to one that, during the three years that she has
been in my service, she has not even thought of robbing me of so much as
a centime."
But M. Plantat only listened to him with one ear; he was trying to find
an excuse for cutting Janouille's story short, and to lead the
conversation to the events of the day before.
"I have, perhaps, incommoded you a little this morning, Monsieur Lecoq?"
"Me? then you did not see my motto--'always vigilant?' Why, I've been
out ten times this morning; besides marking out work for three of my
men. Ah, we have little time to ourselves, I can tell you. I went to the
Vulcan's Forges to see what news I could get of that poor devil of a
Guespin."
"And what did you hear?"
"That I had guessed right. He changed a five-hundred-franc note there
last Wednesday evening at a quarter before ten."
"That is to say, he is saved?"
"Well, you may say so. He will be, as soon as we have found Miss Jenny."
The old justice of the peace could not avoid showing his uneasiness.
"That will, perhaps, be long and difficult?"
"Bast! Why so? She is on my black ball there--we shall have her,
accidents excepted, before night."
"You really think so?"
"I should say I was sure, to anybody but you. Reflect that this girl has
been connected with the Count de Tremorel, a man of the world, a prince
of the mode. When a girl falls to the gutter, after having, as they say,
dazzled all Paris for six months with her luxury, she does not disappear
entirely, like a stone in the mud. When she has lost all her friends
there are still her creditors, who follow and watch her, awaiting the
day when fortune will smile on her once more. She doesn't trouble
herself about them, she thinks they've forgotten her; a mistake! I know
a milliner whose head is a perfect dictionary of the fashionable world;
she has often done me a good turn. We will go and see her if you say so,
after breakfast, and in two hours she will give us Jenny's address. Ah,
if I were only as sure of pinching Tremorel!"
M. Plantat gave a sigh of relief. The conversation at last took the turn
he wished.
"You are thinking of him, then?" asked he.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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