“He is a man of mettle and temper. We have only two courses open to us,” said the public prosecutor. “We must secure his fidelity, or get him out of the way.”
“The same idea has struck us both, and that is a great honor for me,” said Corentin. “I am obliged to have so many ideas, and for so many people, that out of them all I ought occasionally to meet a clever man.”
He spoke so drily, and in so icy a tone, that Monsieur de Granville made no reply, and proceeded to attend to some pressing matters.
Mademoiselle Jacqueline Collin’s amazement on seeing Jacques Collin in the Salle des Pas-Perdus is beyond imagining. She stood square on her feet, her hands on her hips, for she was dressed as a costermonger. Accustomed as she was to her nephew’s conjuring tricks, this beat everything.
“Well, if you are going to stare at me as if I were a natural history show,” said Jacques Collin, taking his aunt by the arm and leading her out of the hall, “we shall be taken for a pair of curious specimens; they may take us into custody, and then we should lose time.”
And he went down the stairs of the Galerie Marchande leading to the Rue de la Barillerie. “Where is Paccard?”
“He is waiting for me at la Rousse’s, walking up and down the flower market.”
“And Prudence?”
“Also at her house, as my god-daughter.”
“Let us go there.”