He pulled out his cigarette case, a silver-gilt one with his monogram in blue enamel, a new-year's gift from Payot, and discovered it empty. Pierre got out of his fiacre, and dismissing the cocher turned into one of the numerous tobacco shops, where he speedily refilled it, and was in the act of lifting it up when the man, no other than Emile Levasseur, the waiter and lover of the girl whom he had insulted at Maxim's, dexterously extracted a pocket-book from Pierre's breast pocket. Long practice had made him an expert at this game, and watching his opportunity until Pierre had turned down one of the side streets, where he could be more easily followed, he opened it under one of the street lamps, and hastily looked through its contents. After abstracting a billet de banque for five hundred francs which he transferred to his own pocket to meet any emergencies that might arise, together with a few visiting cards which were evidently Pierre's—seeing that they all bore the same address—he left the rest of the notes in the pocket-book, and continued to follow Pierre. At length he observed Pierre take out his latch key, and running after him with the pocket-book in his hand took off his hat with a polite bow.
"A thousand pardons, but has not monsieur forgotten his pocket-book a few moments ago?"
Pierre felt in his coat pocket, and not finding it there, turned round to look at Emile once more.
"I had the honour to notice it lying on the counter of the tobacco shop after monsieur had just left it. But monsieur travelled so fast I had some difficulty in reaching him."
Pierre took the pocket-book, and after seeing that the contents had apparently not been tampered with, thanked him and offered him a five franc piece.
Emile refused the proffered tip with a superb smile, and a majestic wave of the hand.
"A thousand pardons, but really I cannot accept anything from monsieur, the fact that I have been the humble means of restoring monsieur's property is more than ample reward for me."
Pierre grunted with a smile of contemptuous unbelief, and returned the piece to his pocket, after scanning him closely from head to foot. His inspection was evidently satisfactory for he paused for a few minutes and asked him whether he would care to perform a small service for him, for which he would pay him handsomely.
"Ah, monsieur is too generous. To serve a patron like monsieur would be the supreme desire of my life, and payment would be quite a secondary consideration," he said with a greasy supercilious smile.
"What is your name and address?" asked Pierre.