United States or Kosovo ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
He was reflecting thus when the door-bell rang. Janouille went to the door, and speedily returned with the announcement that Goulard begged to speak with M. Lecoq, and asked if she should admit him. "Certainly." The chains clanked and the locks scraped, and presently Goulard made his appearance. He had donned his best clothes, with spotless linen, and a very high collar.
"Oh," cried M. Plantat, "I asked the doctor, last evening, to let me know the result of the autopsy, and not knowing where I should put up, took the liberty of giving your address." M. Lecoq took the letter and handed it to his guest. "Read it, read it," said the latter. "There is nothing in it to conceal." "All right; but come into the other room. Janouille, give this man some breakfast.
The door was opened by Janouille, M. Lecoq's old servant, who had very much the manner and appearance of a grenadier. She was as faithful to her master as a watch-dog, and always stood ready to attack anyone who did not treat him with the august respect which she considered his due. "Well, M. Fanferlot," she said, "you come in time for once in your life. Your patron wants to see you."
At last, however, the clock did strike; and just then the faithful Janouille opened the door, and ushered in Mme. Nina and Prosper Bertomy. "Ah," said M. Lecoq, "you are punctual; lovers are generally so." "We are not lovers, monsieur," replied Mme. Gypsy. "M. Verduret gave us express orders to meet here in your office this morning, and we have obeyed."
As he gave his orders, he took off his gown, assumed a long black coat, and carefully adjusted his wig. "Will Monsieur be back this evening?" asked Janouille. "I don't know." "And if anybody comes from over yonder?" "Over yonder" with a detective, always means "the house" otherwise the prefecture of police. "Say that I am out on the Corbeil affair." M. Lecoq was soon ready.
And open your eyes; for she's a sly creature, and very apt to inveigle you on the way and slip through your fingers." They went out, and Janouille stoutly barricaded herself behind them.
Janouille was a remarkable cook; M. Plantat had ample experience of the fact when he began upon her dishes. But he was not hungry, and could not force himself to eat; he could not think of anything but a plan which he had to propose to his host, and he had that oppressive feeling which is experienced when one is about to do something which has been decided on with hesitation and regret.
"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.
Why, last week a railway porter brought a package here addressed to me. Janouille that's my old woman suspected nothing, though she has a sharp nose, and told him to come in. He held out the package, I went up to take it, when pif! paf! off went two pistol-shots. The package was a revolver wrapped up in oilcloth, and the porter was a convict escaped from Cayenne, caught by me last year.
"And we will get him!" cried the old man, pale with emotion. "Not yet; don't shout victory too soon. It is possible that Hector was prudent enough not to go to the upholsterer's himself. In this case we are beaten in that direction. But no, he was not so sly as that " M. Lecoq checked himself. Janouille, for the third time, opened the door, and said, in a deep bass voice: "Breakfast is ready."
Word Of The Day