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Updated: June 3, 2025
I will throw a stone into the water," said Fanferlot, rubbing his hands with delight at his own brilliant idea. "As soon as Clameran has seen you," continued M. Verduret, "he will be alarmed, and instantly decamp. Knowing there are reasons why the police should be after him, he will hasten to escape you; then comes the time for you to keep wide awake; he is a slippery eel, and cunning as a rat."
"It seems to me, Master Squirrel, that you have forgotten something. How far did you follow the empty coach?" Fanferlot blushed, and hung his head like a guilty school-boy. "Oh, patron!" he cried, "and you know about that too! How could you have " But a sudden idea flashed across his brain: he stopped short, bounded off his chair, and cried: "Oh!
I don't know what the judge told her, but she came home quite beside herself with anger. She wanted to go and make a fuss at M. Fauvel's; then she wrote a letter which she told Jean to post for her; but I kept it to show you." "What!" interrupted Fanferlot, "you have a letter, and did not tell me before? Perhaps it contains the clew to the mystery. Give it to me, quick." Obeying her husband, Mme.
Nothing was wanting, neither the odious circumstances, nor the mystery, nor even the romantic and sentimental element represented by Prosper and Madeleine. Success seemed difficult, almost impossible; but Fanferlot, the Squirrel, had great confidence in his own genius for investigation.
Cavaillon saw the folly of further contradicting a man so well informed; so he changed his tactics, and said: "It is true Prosper gave me a note this morning; but it was intended for me alone, and after reading it I tore it up, and threw the pieces in the fire." This might be the truth. Fanferlot feared so; but how could he assure himself of the fact?
Patron, you would make a superb actor, if you would go on the stage; but I was disguised, too very well disguised." "Very poorly disguised; it is only just to you that I should let you know what a failure it was, Fanferlot. Do you think that a heavy beard and a blouse are a sufficient transformation? The eye is the thing to be changed the eye! The art lies in being able to change the eye.
That is the secret." This theory of disguise explained why the lynx-eyed Lecoq never appeared at the police-office without his gold spectacles. "Then, patron," said Fanferlot, clinging to his idea, "you have been more successful than Mme. Alexandre; you have made the little girl confess?
By the time he had reached the Boulevard St. Denis, he began to get breathless, and stiff from a pain in his side. The cabman abruptly turned into the Rue Faubourg St. Martin. But Fanferlot, who, at eight years of age, had been familiar with every street in Paris, was not to be baffled: he was a man of resources.
Self-sufficient and vain, like all famous men, M. Lecoq had never had a pupil, and never wished to have one. He worked alone, because he hated assistants, wishing to share neither the pleasures of success nor the pain of defeat. Thus Fanferlot, who knew his patron's character, was surprised to hear him giving advice, who heretofore had only given orders.
Taking the key of this box from his pocket, he ordered Fanferlot to seize his arm just as he put it near the lock. The key slipped, pulled away from the lock, and sliding along the surface of the door, left upon it a diagonal scratch, almost an exact reproduction of the one on the safe.
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