Part 50 (2/2)

”_Mais, mon Dieu_!” exclaimed the proprietor, mopping his head and face violently with his pocket-handkerchief, ”was the man a ghost, that he should vanish into the air?”

”_Parbleu_! a ghost with muscles of iron,” said Muller. ”Talk of the strength of a madman--he has the strength of a whole lunatic asylum!”

”He gave me a most confounded blow in the ribs, anyhow!” said Lepany.

”And nearly broke my arm,” added Eugene Droz.

”And has given me a pain in my chest for a week,” said I, in chorus.

”If he wasn't a ghost,” observed the fat student sententiously, ”he must certainly be the devil.”

The sergents de ville grinned.

”Do we, then, arrest this gentleman?” asked the taller and bigger of the two, his hand still upon my friend's shoulder.

But Muller laughed and shook his head.

”What!” said he, ”arrest a man for resisting the devil? Nonsense, _mes amis_, you ought to canonize me. What says Monsieur le proprietaire?”

Monsieur the proprietor smiled.

”I am willing to let the matter drop,” he replied, ”on the understanding that Monsieur Muller was not really the first offender.”

”_Foi d'honneur_! He insulted me--I threw some coffee in his face--he flung himself upon me like a tiger, and almost choked me, as all here witnessed. And for what? Because I did him the honor to make a rough pencilling of his ugly face ... _Mille tonnerres_!--the fellow has stolen my sketch-book!”

CHAPTER x.x.xI.

FANCIES ABOUT FACES.

The sketch-book was undoubtedly gone, and the stranger had undoubtedly taken it. How he took it, and how he vanished, remained a mystery.

The aspect of affairs, meanwhile, was materially changed. Muller no longer stood in the position of a leniently-treated offender. He had become accuser, and plaintiff. A grave breach of the law had been committed, and he was the victim of a bold and skilful _tour de main_.

The police shook their heads, twirled their moustaches, and looked wise.

It was a case of premeditated a.s.sault--in short, of robbery with violence. It must be inquired into--reported, of course, at head-quarters, without loss of time. Would Monsieur be pleased to describe the stolen sketch-book? An oblong, green volume, secured by an elastic band; contains sketches in pencil and water-colors; value uncertain--Good. And the accused ... would Monsieur also be pleased to describe the person of the accused? His probable age, for instance; his height; the color of his hair, eyes, and beard? Good again. Lastly, Monsieur's own name and address, exactly and in full. _Tres-bon._ It might, perhaps, be necessary for Monsieur to enter a formal deposition to-morrow morning at the Prefecture of Police, in which case due notice would be given.

Whereupon he who seemed to be chief of the twain, having entered Muller's replies in a greasy pocket-book of stupendous dimensions, which he seemed to wear like a cuira.s.s under the breast of his uniform, proceeded to interrogate the proprietor and waiters.

Was the accused an habitual frequenter of the cafe?--No. Did they remember ever to have seen him there before?--No. Should they recognise him if they saw him again? To this question the answers were doubtful.

One waiter thought he should recognise the man; another was not sure; and Monsieur the proprietor admitted that he had himself been too angry to observe anything or anybody very minutely.

Finally, having made themselves of as much importance and asked as many questions as possible, the sergents de ville condescended to accept a couple of-pet.i.ts verres a-piece, and then, with much lifting of c.o.c.ked hats and clattering of sabres, departed.

Most of the students had ere this dropped off by twos and threes, and were gone to their day's work, or pleasure--to return again in equal force about five in the afternoon. Of those that remained, some five or six came up when the police were gone, and began chatting about the robbery. When they learned that Flandrin had desired to have a sketch of the man's head; when Muller described his features, and I his obstinate reserve and semi-military air, their excitement knew no bounds. Each had immediately his own conjecture to offer. He was a political spy, and therefore fearful lest his portrait should be recognised. He was a conspirator of the Fieschi school. He was Mazzini in person.

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