“Yes. I want you. But we had better leave here.”
The agent arose, took his stick, and left the café, accompanied by Baudoin.
“Where shall we go?”
“Where we shall be neither disturbed nor overheard.”
“Then come along with me.”
They proceeded along the banks of the Seine, and, on reaching a quay, Laforêt led the way down a flight of stone stairs leading to the embankment. Under the shade of the elms, which twisted their knotty boughs above the slimy, swift-flowing river, they sat down. On the opposite bank the gardens of the Tuileries exposed to view their lovely verdure. Lighters were unloading sand fifty yards on the left. Ferry-boats sped swiftly along, crowded with passengers, and the distant rolling of carriages formed a rumbling accompaniment to their words.
“Here we are certain that whatever we say will be heard by none other than the birds or the fishes,” said Laforêt. “This is the spot I recommend to you whenever you have any secrets to communicate to any one. There is not even a single fisherman about. Now then, what have you to tell?”
“Well, after three weeks’ researches, the examining magistrate is obliged to confess that he has not made the slightest progress. Clearly, if left to himself, he will never effect anything. Besides, the cleverest of them would have been no more fortunate. There is nothing to seize hold of. The culprits have plunged, and everything is quiet again. The upshot of the matter is that our magistrate is about to stop all investigations, and now I am free to go where I like, as I shall no longer have to spend all the day walking about the corridors of the Law Courts. Accordingly, I am leaving Paris.”
“To stay with the son of my master, M. Baradier, who is at the works near Troyes, in Champagne. The district is called Ars, noted for alkaline springs and thermal waters, visited every summer by invalids.”