"You'll be paying for that left-handed punch, old boy, before very long," said Coquenil to himself.
"Now," resumed Groener, as the cab turned into a quiet street out of the noisy traffic of the Rue de Rivoli, "I'll tell you how I expect to find Alice. I'm going to find her through the sister of Father Anselm."
"The sister of Father Anselm!" exclaimed the other.
"Certainly. Priests have sisters, didn't you know that? Ha, ha! She's a hairdresser on the Rue Tronchet, kind-hearted woman with children of her own. She comes to see the Bonnetons and is fond of Alice. Well, she'll know where the girl has gone, and I propose to make her tell me."
"To make her?"
"Oh, she'll want to tell me when she understands what this means to her brother. Hello! Here's the telegraph office! Just a minute."
He sprang lightly from the cab and hurried across the sidewalk. At the same moment Coquenil lifted his hand and brought it down quickly, twice, in the direction of the doorway through which Groener had passed. And a moment later Tignol was in the telegraph office writing a dispatch beside the wood carver.
"I've telegraphed the Paris agent of a big furniture dealer in Rouen," explained the latter as they drove on, "canceling an appointment for to-morrow. He was coming on especially, but I can't see him—I can't do any business until I've found Alice. She's a sweet girl, in spite of everything, and I'm very fond of her." There was a quiver of emotion in his voice.
"Are you going to the hairdresser's now?" asked Matthieu.
"Yes. Of course she may refuse to help me, but I think I can persuade her with you to back me up." He smiled meaningly.