“You may rely upon me, sir,” replied Fritz. “I have an excellent memory.”
The prospect of imprisonment had terrified him into abject submission. He spoke the truth; he would have been willing to say or do anything just then. Lecoq profited by this disposition; and then clearly and concisely gave the lad his instructions. “And now,” added he, “I must see and hear you. Where can I hide myself?”
Fritz pointed to a glass door. “In the dark room there, sir. By leaving the door ajar you can hear and you can see everything through the glass.”
Without another word Lecoq darted into the room in question. Not a moment too soon, however, for the bell of the outer door announced the arrival of a visitor. It was May. “I wish to speak to the landlady,” he said.
“What landlady?” replied the lad.
“The person who received me when I came here six weeks ago—”
“Oh, I understand,” interrupted Fritz; “it’s Madame Milner you want to see; but you have come too late; she sold the house about a month ago, and has gone back to Alsace.”
May stamped his foot and uttered a terrible oath. “I have come to claim something from her,” he insisted.
“Do you want me to call her successor?”
Concealed behind the glass door, Lecoq could not help admiring Fritz, who was uttering these glaring falsehoods with that air of perfect candor which gives the Germans such a vast advantage over the Latin races, who seem to be lying even when they are telling the truth.