“Indeed, I had twenty-five shiners in my pouch,” said Gamain.
“Then, you have got them now, my friend.”
The smith quickly plunged his hand into his pocket and pulled it out full of gold mixed with small change in silver and bronze.
“To think that I had forgot it! twenty-five is a good bit, too—and it is right to the ‘broken’ louis—one does not pick up such a lot under the horse’s foot. Thank God the account is correct.” And he breathed more freely.
“My dear Master Gamain, I told you I found you on the King’s highway, not twenty paces from a heavy wagon which would have cut you in twain. I shouted for the carrier to pull up; I called a passing cab; I unhooked one of the lamps and as I looked at you by its light, I caught sight of a gold piece on the ground; as they were near your pocket, I judged that you had dropped them. I put my finger in the pocket and as there were a score of their brothers in bed there I guessed that these were of the same brood. Thereupon the hack driver shook his head. ‘I ain’t going to take this fare,’ said he: ‘he is too rich for his dress. Twenty louis in gold in a cotton waistcoat suggests that the gallows will be his end.’ ‘What,’ says I, ‘do you take him for a thief?’ The word struck you, for you says. ‘Thief? you are another!’ says you. ‘So you must be a prig,’ returned the coachman, ‘or how would the likes of you have a pocket gold-lined, say?’
“'I have money because my pupil the King of France gave it me,’ said you. By these words I thought I recognized you, and clasping the lamp to your nose, I cried: ‘Bless us and save us: all is clear; this is Master Gamain, master locksmith at Versailles. He has been working in the royal forge and the King has given him twenty-five mint-drops for his trouble. All right: I will answer for him.’ From the moment that I answered for you, the driver raised no objections. I replaced the coins in your pocket; we laid you snugly in the hack; and we set you down in this retreat so that you have nothing to complain of except that your ‘prentice left you in the lurch.”
“Did I speak of my ’prentice? that he left me in the lurch?” questioned Gamain, more and more astonished.
“Why, hang it all, are you going back on what you said? Did you not growl that it was all the fault of—of—dash me if I can remember the name you used.”
“Louis Lecomte?”
“I guess that was it. Did you not say: ‘Louis Lecomte is in fault! for he promised to see me safe home and at the last moment he dropped me like a hot roll?'”