M. Hilaire scratched his ear.
"That being so, my governor's number is up," he sighed. "There's another man who won't make old bones!"
"Yes," growled Chéri-Bibi, "accidents will happen. Oh, by the way, your governor has a friend, a bit of a braggart, who acts as his factotum and whose name is Onésime Belon. De Saynthine picked this man, who is an old pal of his, out of the gutter, and he calls him in private the Joker, though no one has ever known why."
"Must I keep an eye on him, too?"
"Keep an eye on him! I should think you must keep an eye on him. He is as dangerous to our friend, the Captain, as your governor is. Our friend will never have a quiet life so long as this Onésime Belon . . ."
Chéri-Bibi did not finish the sentence, but brought his two hands together and gave a twist which left no doubt as to the necessity for disposing of this fellow also.
"Ah, yes, that man too," sighed Hilaire.
"I might as well let you know also that Onésime Belon is mixed up with a certain second-hand clothes dealer in the old town—that accounts, perhaps, for his being so shabbily dressed—a man nicknamed the Burglar, who is easily recognized because he walks sideways like a crab, and can't hide the fact that one of his shoulders is higher than the other. This man, the Burglar, calls himself in the old town Monsieur Toulouse. . . ."
"Does he, too, bear a grudge against Captain d'Haumont?" asked poor Hilaire with growing anxiety, while the sweat broke over his forehead in great drops.
"Bear him a grudge! I should think he did bear him a grudge! He has sworn to ruin him or to cook his goose for him. Listen carefully. All those fellows are in possession of a certain secret, and they have determined to blackmail the Captain to the death."