We arrived at Nice in the afternoon. The very pavement smelt of heat. At the station a man came up to me, and, raising his hat, spoke my name. He handed me a letter, which I read then and there.
"The bearer is watching Miste in Nice. I am going to stop the passages by Ventimiglia and the Col di Tende. Miste has evidently appointed to meet his confederate at Genoa. Two passages have been taken on the steamer sailing Saturday thence to Buenos Ayres."
The letter was unsigned, but the handwriting that of my astute agent, Sander. Things were beginning to look black for Monsieur Miste. I saw plainly enough that Sander was thinking only of the money, and meant to catch both the thieves. The bearer of the letter, who was a Frenchman, said that he had his eye on Miste, who was staying in the old inn of the Chapeau Rouge at the top of the Quai Massena, and passed for a commercial traveller there.
"Monsieur must not molest my charge," he said. "Mr. Sander has so ordered. It is probable that Miste has in his possession only a portion of the money."
"ARE WE MEN?" RETORTED ALPHONSE, IN RESPONSE, AS HE WRESTLED WITH HIS SHIRT COLLAR, "OR ARE WE SCHOOLGIRLS? TELL ME THAT, MR. THE POLICEMAN!"
We went to the Hôtel des Anglais, and there wrote fictitious names in the police register; for it was impossible to be too careful. Alphonse, in his zeal, would have written himself down an Englishman had I not remonstrated, and told him that the ordinary housefly could have in its mind no doubt as to his nationality. So he borrowed the name of a friend who had gone to Pondicherry. Our orders were to keep within the hotel garden, and thus in masterly inactivity we passed the afternoon and evening. The heat was intense, and the gay town deserted. Indeed, one half of the shops were closed.
I went to bed early, and was already asleep when a great rapping aroused me. It was Sander's colleague, who came into my room, and dismissed the waiter who had brought him thither. Alphonse, aroused by the clamour, appeared on the scene, making use of a door of communication connecting our rooms.
"Quick, Messieurs!" the man said. "Into your clothes. I will tell you my news as you dress. My man," he went on, acting valet as he spoke, "has left by the night diligence for St. Martin Lantosque. But, tell me, are these gentlemen good for forty miles on horseback to-night?"
"Are we men?" retorted Alphonse, in response, as he wrestled with his shirt collar, "or are we schoolgirls? Tell me that, Mr. the Policeman!"