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Updated: June 26, 2025
The night was, of course, pitch dark, and the howling of the wind and beating of the rain effectually drowned every other sound. Tournefort, chilled to the marrow, had at first cowered in the angle of the door, as far away from the draught as he could.
Here, before the days when the glorious Revolution swept aside all such outward signs of superstition, there had stood a Calvary. It was now used as a signpost. The man stood before it, scanning the half-obliterated indications. At the moment that Tournefort first caught sight of him he appeared uncertain of his way.
Tournefort, never at a loss, had already climbed upon a low projection in the wall of one of the houses opposite. From this point of vantage he could more easily observe what went on inside the cabaret, and in short, jerky sentences he gave a description of what he saw to his chief.
The special description of No. 10 by Tournefort in 1700 would indicate that large smooth sorts, like Livingston's Stone, were in existence fully 200 years ago, instead of being modern improvements, as is sometimes claimed; and a careful study of old descriptions and cuts and comparing them with the best examples of modern varieties led Doctor Sturtevant in 1889 to express the opinion that they had fruit as large and smooth as those we now grow, before the tomato came into general use in America, and possibly before the fruit was generally known to Europeans.
There were not many such left in Paris these days. Unfortunately, the tempest of the wind and the rain made such a din that it was difficult to catch every sound which came from the interior of the lodge. All that Tournefort caught definitely were a few fragments of conversation. "My good M. Bertin..." came at one time from a woman's voice. "Truly I do not know why you should do all this for me."
In his own mind he had already decided that he would wait until Madame la Comtesse came out of the concierge's lodge, and that he would follow her and apprehend her somewhere out in the open streets, rather than here where her friend Bertin might prove to be a stalwart as well as a desperate man, ready with a pistol, whilst he Tournefort was unarmed.
D'Anville examines with care, and receives with confidence, this decisive testimony, which gives a circumference of ten or twelve miles. The extravagant computation of Tournefort of thirty-four or thirty miles, without including Scutari, is a strange departure from his usual character.
Well! she had not gone apparently, for here she was, in the lodge of the concierge of a mean house in one of the desolate quarters of Paris, begging some traitor to find her diamonds for her, which she had obviously left concealed inside the chateau. What a haul for Tournefort! What commendation from his superiors! The chances of a speedy promotion were indeed glorious now!
"You have been dreaming, citizen Tournefort," the old man said, with a husky little laugh. "Sit down, and let me get you some coffee " "Don't try and hoodwink me, Grosjean!" Tournefort cried now in a sudden access of rage. "I tell you that I saw the light. I heard the aristos talking.
"Citizen Tournefort!" he exclaimed. "Name of a dog! What are you doing here at this hour and in this abominable weather? Come in! Come in!" he added, and, turning on his heel, he shuffled back into the inner room, and then returned carrying a lighted lamp, which he set upon the table. "Amelie left a sup of hot coffee on the hob in the kitchen before she went to bed. You must have a drop of that."
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