But Doctor Porquier was an effusive individual who did not allow himself to be discouraged by obstacles.
'Wait a moment!' he cried. 'If you will allow me, Monsieur le Curé, I will come round.'
Then he disappeared. The Abbé, still smiling, slowly bent his steps towards the little door which opened into the Impasse des Chevillottes. The doctor was already gently knocking at it.
'Ah! this door is nailed up,' said the priest. 'One of the nails is broken though. If I had any sort of a tool, there would be no difficulty in getting the other one out.'
He glanced round him and caught sight of a spade. Then, after he had drawn back the bolts with a slight effort, he opened the door, and stepped out into the alley, where Doctor Porquier overwhelmed him with thanks and compliments. As they walked along, talking, Monsieur Maffre, who happened at the time to be in Monsieur Rastoil's garden, opened a little door that was hidden away behind the presiding judge's waterfall. The gentlemen were much amused to find themselves all three in this deserted little lane.
They remained there for a few moments, and, as they took leave of the Abbé, the magistrate and the doctor poked their heads inside the Mourets' garden, looking about them with curiosity.
Mouret, however, who was putting stakes to his tomatoes, raised his head and caught sight of them. He was fairly lost in astonishment.
'Hallo! so they've made their way in here!' he muttered. 'The Curé now only has to bring in both gangs!'