"Extraordinary!" muttered Tignol. "Even now I hardly know you."
"Then I ought to fool the wood carver."
"Fool him? You would fool your own mother. That reminds me—" He rose as the train stopped.
"Yes, yes?" questioned M. Paul eagerly. "Tell me about my mother. Is she well? Is she worried? Did you give her all my messages? Have you a letter for me?"
Tignol smiled. "There's a devoted son! But the old lady wouldn't like you with those teeth. Eh, eh! Shades of Vidocq, what a make-up! We'd better get out! I'll tell you about my visit as we walk along."
"Where are you going?" asked the detective, as the old man led the way toward the Rue La Fontaine.
"Going to get the dog," answered Tignol.
"No, no," objected M. Paul. "I wouldn't have Cæsar see me like this. I have a room on the Rue Poussin; I'll go back there first and take off some of this."
"As you please," said Tignol, and he proceeded to give Coquenil the latest news of his mother, all good news, and a long letter from the old lady, full of love and wise counsels and prayers for her boy's safety.
"There's a woman for you!" murmured M. Paul, and the tenderness of his voice contrasted oddly with the ugliness of his disguise.