Part 32 (1/2)
”Have you got consciences--your sort?” cried de Loubersac, casting a glance of withering contempt at the supposed old man.
There was a silence. Then de Loubersac walked up to the old accordion player and asked anxiously:
”Can you give me proofs of the truth of what you have just a.s.serted?”
”Perhaps,” was the evasive answer.
”You will have to give me proofs,” insisted de Loubersac.
”Proofs?... I have none,” replied the mysterious old fellow. ”But I have intuitions; better still, my confidence is grounded on a strong probability.”
This statement came to de Loubersac with the force of a stunning blow: it came from one whom he considered his best agent: he knew Vagualame always weighed his words: his information was generally correct.
”We cannot continue this conversation here,” he said. ”To-morrow we must meet as usual--and remember--do not attempt to accost me without using the pa.s.sword.”
”Now, how the deuce am I to know what this famous word is?” Juve asked himself. Then he had an inspiration.
”We must not use it again,” he announced. ”I have reason to think our customary pa.s.sword is known ... I will explain another time ... it is a regular story--a long one.”
”All right,” agreed de Loubersac. ”What should it be?... Suppose I say _monoplane_?”
”I will answer _dirigible_,” said Juve-Vagualame.
”Agreed.”
De Loubersac rapidly mounted the steps leading to the quay, glad to close a detestable interview.
Juve-Vagualame remained below. He struck his forehead.
”Monsieur Henri!” he called.
”What?”
”The meeting place to-morrow?”
De Loubersac had just signalled to a taxi: he leaned over the parapet and called to Juve-Vagualame, who had got no farther than the middle of the steps:
”Why at half past three, in the garden, as usual!”
”Oh, ho!” said the old accordion player. ”He will be furious! I shall play him false--bound to--for how can I keep the appointment--confound it! What garden? Whereabouts in it?” Then, as he regained the quay, Juve laughed in his false white beard.
”What do I care? I snap my fingers at that rendezvous. I have extracted from him what I wanted to know--it matters not a jot if I never set eyes on him again! And ... now ... it is we two, Bobinette!”
XIV
BEFORE A TOMB