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Updated: June 3, 2025
It is enough to say of Peyrade's youth that in 1782 he was in the confidence of chiefs of the police and the hero of the department, highly esteemed by MM. Lenoir and d'Albert, the last Lieutenant-Generals of Police. The Revolution had no police; it needed none. Espionage, though common enough, was called public spirit.
But Gothard's speech was evidently so true and yet so false, so perfectly innocent and so artful that the two Parisians again looked at each other as if to echo Peyrade's former words: "They are not ninnies."
From her he heard of Lydie's disappearance, and remained astounded at Peyrade's and his own want of foresight. "But they do not know me yet," said he to himself. "This crew is capable of anything; I must find out if they are killing Peyrade; for if so, I must not be seen any more " The viler a man's life is, the more he clings to it; it becomes at every moment a protest and a revenge.
The money was to pass through la Peyrade's hands. Claparon met his accomplice, the notary, on the Place de l'Observatoire by midnight. This young man, the successor of Leopold Hannequin, was one of those who run after fortune instead of following it leisurely. He now saw another future before him, and he managed his present affairs in order to be free to take hold of it.
Theodose de la Peyrade. Two hours later a servant, dressed in what was evidently the first step towards a livery, which the Thuilliers did not as yet venture to risk, the "male domestic," whom Minard had mentioned to the Phellions, arrived at la Peyrade's lodgings with the following note: Come to-night, without fail. We will talk over the whole affair with Brigitte.
"He must have vowed a Roland for your Oliver," said the aunt, "for he has taken charge of Peyrade's daughter, the girl who was sold to Madame Nourrisson, you know." "Our first point must be to find him a servant." "That will be difficult; he must be tolerably wide-awake," observed Jacqueline. "Well, hatred keeps one alive! We must work hard."
Contenson had brought all his experience into play in his search for Lydie, and hoped to discover in what house she was hidden; but as the days went by, the impossibility, absolutely demonstrated, of tracing the slightest clue, added, hour by hour, to Peyrade's despair. The old spy had a sort of guard about him of twelve or fifteen of the most experienced detectives.
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