“Well,” said the amazed Joseph, “I am amazed!”
M. Verduret seemed not in the least surprised, but quietly said:
“The game needs hunting. Well, Joseph, my boy, do you still think that your noble master was duped by your acting injured innocence?”
“You assured me to the contrary, patron,” said Joseph in an humble tone; “and your opinion is more convincing than all the proofs in the world.”
“This pretended outburst of rage was premeditated on the part of your noble master. Knowing that he is being tracked, he naturally wishes to discover who his adversaries are. You can imagine how uncomfortable he must be at this uncertainty. Perhaps he thinks his pursuers are some of his old accomplices, who, being starved, want a piece of his cake. He will remain there until you come out: then he will come in to find out who you are.”
“But, patron, I can go home without his seeing me.”
“Yes, I know. You will climb the little wall separating the Archangel from the wine-merchant’s yard, and keep along the stationer’s area, until you reach the Rue de la Huchette.”
Poor Joseph looked as if he had just received a bucket of ice-water upon his head.
“Exactly the way I was going, patron,” he gasped out. “I heard that you knew every plank and door of all the houses in Paris, and it certainly must be so.”
The fat man made no reply to Joseph’s admiring remarks. He was thinking how he could catch Clameran.