“Poor man! That was his only weakness. His heart remained as young as ever. His imagination was very inflammable, and he gave way to it with unparalleled facility. I was often obliged to stop him.”
“Did he mention nothing that had happened recently?”
“No; he appeared preoccupied and less expansive than usual. Probably he had been recommended to be very discreet, and his promise had been given. I must say that his passion for the fair sex rather disgusted me, and I gave no encouragement to tales which appeared to me unworthy of our friend’s noble mind. Latterly, therefore, finding him reserved and quiet, I did not encourage him to speak. I preferred him to say nothing on the subject.”
“What a pity! Just the time when his explanations would have been so useful.”
“It is always so!”
“Had he made no fresh male acquaintances? Was there no name you could catch?”
“He spoke to me of no one except a foreign savant, with whom he had struck up a friendship, and who seems to have been an extraordinary man. He suspected him of being a nihilist, and that worried him. But he spoke of him with the utmost admiration.”
“Was he a Russian?”
“I do not know. His name was Hans.”
“Hans!” exclaimed Baradier. “That was the name of the man whose arm was torn off! It is the name on the ring worn by the man who caused the explosion of the house at Vanves. This is the first flash of light.”