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Updated: May 7, 2025
"Yes," replied Bobinette. Vagualame knocked three separate times, then twice quickly, on the iron shutters. A key turned in the lock: the door opened. Vagualame thrust Bobinette across the threshold. Out of the obscurity of the streets whipped by an icy wind and torrents of rain, Bobinette found herself in a brilliantly lighted book-shop. She stood dazzled. A young woman came forward.
In the name of the law I arrest you!" declared Inspector Michel. Captain Loreuil shouted in his natural voice, which, issuing from this apparent woman, had a ludicrous effect: "Ha! at last we have got him!" Juve-Vagualame did not budge. With inward joy, he awaited the arrest of Bobinette. "Things go well," he thought: "if not so well as old Michel believes.
Brocq, who had passed out of the Military Academy exceedingly well, had been given an important post recently: a confidential appointment at the Ministry of War. During the first years of his military life Brocq had been entirely preoccupied by his profession. Of a truth, as pretty Bobinette had just told him, he was not at all "a man accustomed to women."
They were passing beneath a street lamp. Vagualame noted that Bobinette was regarding him with defiant eyes. Was this really Vagualame? Was he an impostor? Vagualame read her thoughts. "Bobinette, you are nothing but a fool!" announced the old accordion player: "The man arrested at your place was a detective, who had got himself up like me to take you in!... You let him trick you!
"Have you forgotten that you told me how you had assassinated Captain Brocq?" "That is ancient history," muttered Juve, "... and I am not afraid of anyone.... Besides ... did I tell you that now?" he hinted, with the hope of obtaining further details. But Bobinette seemed to think she had had enough of the subject. She laughed. "What a way of walking you have!" she exclaimed.
He was quite a Parisian type, this Vagualame: one of those faces at once odd and classic, such as one comes across in numbers on the pavements, known to all the world, without anyone knowing exactly who they are, how they live, where they go, or whence they come.... The old man had, on his side, caught sight of Bobinette.
Now and again Bobinette could hear the rapid passings of motor-cars on the high road outside, speeding to Paris or Versailles, passing the van abandoned, left derelict by the wayside. Far, indeed, were these passers from suspecting the terrible drama of which it was the theatre. Call out? That were madness! Her cries might pass unheeded.
Supporting her with infinite gentleness, the man addressed her in a voice trembling with emotion: "Do not be afraid, Bobinette! You are saved! It is Juve who is telling you so! It is Juve!"
For some time the captain had followed with his eyes the gestures of his graceful mistress; like a good and attentive lover he guessed what she required. He rushed into the adjoining dressing-room and returned with a little onyx cup in which was a complete assortment of pins. "There, my pretty Bobinette!" he cried, coming up to the young woman. "This will put me into your good graces again."
We will meet at The Crying Calf, it is safe there!" "Sit you down here, little Bobine!" suggested Hogshead Geoffrey.... "And now, what will you take?" Bobinette ordered a gooseberry syrup. "Quite the lady's drink," remarked mine host of the wine-shop with a humorous air.
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