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Updated: June 4, 2025
Farewell's bachelor establishment of a young and beautiful girl, whom he tried to keep a virtual prisoner under his eye. The next morning, dressed in a shabby blouse, alpaca cap, and trousers frayed out round the ankles, I Hector Ratichon, the confidant of kings was lounging under the porte-cochere of No. 65 Rue des Pyramides.
"Take note, my good Ratichon," he said, "that our partnership is dissolved as from to-morrow, the twentieth day of September." "As from this moment, you infernal scoundrel!" I cried. But he did not pause to listen, and slammed the door in my face. For two or three minutes I remained quite still, whilst I heard the shuffling footsteps slowly descending the corridor.
My name is Ratichon Hector Ratichon, at your service, and I make so bold as to say that not even my worst enemy would think of minimizing the value of my services to the State.
Pay Hector Ratichon a thousand francs for stealing a bracelet for you worth sixty! Indeed, M. Jean Duval, you deserved to succeed!" Again he shook his cane at me. "If you touch me," I declared boldly, "I shall take the bracelet at once to Mlle. Mars." He bit his lip and made a great effort to pull himself together. "I haven't three thousand francs by me," he said.
"And to keep an eye on the valuable cargo, of course?" I concluded. "Yes," he said roughly, "an eye. But hands off, understand, my good Ratichon, or there'll be trouble." He did not wait to hear my indignant protest. He had risen to his feet, and had already turned to go. Now he stretched his great coarse hand out to me. "All in good part, eh?" I took his hand. He meant no harm, did old Leroux.
Ratichon whose thinness is ever my despair, for I admire comeliness, Sir, as being more womanly Mme. Ratichon, I say, comes to me with the gladsome news that dinner is served; and though she is not all that I could wish in the matter of the culinary arts, yet she can fry a cutlet passably, and one of her brothers is a wholesale wine merchant of excellent reputation.
Not so is Hector Ratichon, the keenest secret agent France has ever known, the confidant of kings, brought to earth by an untoward move of fate.
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