He bought a newspaper and, after having taken a look at it, wrapped the bottle up in it. Then he stuck it under his arm and went tottering on like a man who [[179]]only keeps upright by a miracle. In fact, the handsome Marescal could not hold himself upright. His collar was as limp and crumpled as if it had been dipped in water; his beard ended in two points from which dripped drops of sweat.
It was just before he reached the Place de L’Etoile that a gentleman in large dark spectacles, coming from the opposite direction with a lighted cigarette in his mouth, appeared in front of him. This gentleman barred his way, and since his cigarette was already burning, did not ask him for a light, but, without a word puffed a cloud of smoke into his face, and smiled a smile that bared his teeth, nearly all of them pointed like canines.
The Commissary’s eyes started out of their sockets; he stammered: “Who are you? What do you want?”
What was the use of asking? He knew quite well that the man who always mystified him stood before him, the man whom he called the third confederate, Aurelie’s lover, and his, Marescal’s, eternal enemy.
And this man, who appeared to him the devil in person, pointed a finger at the bottle and said in affectionately genial accents:
“Come, hand it over—be nice to the kind gentleman—hand it over. A Commissary of your rank can’t go dancing along the streets with a bottle. Come, Rudolph—hand it over.”
Marescal gave way at once. Cry out, call for help, [[180]]set passers-by on this murderer—he could not do it. He was under a spell. This infernal creature robbed him of all his vigor, and, stupidly, without dreaming for a moment of resisting, like a thief who finds it quite natural to restore the thing he has stolen, he allowed the bottle to be taken from under the arm which could not longer hold it.
At that moment Bregeac came up, also breathless, also powerless to spring on the third thief, or to question Marescal. Both of them stood, stunned, on the edge of the gutter and watched the gentleman in dark spectacles hail a taxi, get into it, and wave his hat in farewell out of the window.
As soon as he reached his lodgings Ralph unwrapped the bottle. It was a quart bottle such as is used for mineral water, an old quart bottle of thick black glass. On the dusty, dirty label, which all the same must have been protected against the damp, an inscription in large printed letters could be easily read:
EAU DE JOUVENCE.