With this the Doctor suddenly whipped out his silk handkerchief, and with the greatest ingenuity bound it fast round de Meneval’s mouth, so that he was completely gagged and silenced. The police officers seized him, and dragged him out, under Dr. Delcasse’s direction. De Meneval fought like a tiger, but it was one to three. The struggle, though violent, was noiseless, and before the two or three waiters in the vicinity realized what was going on everything was over, and Madame Vernet, picking up her gloves, fan and other belongings, scurried off another way to make the ten o’clock train.
Meanwhile, the interview between Papa Bouchard and Léontine had been stormy. Léontine had demanded an explanation, but Papa Bouchard had no satisfactory one to give. At first he mounted his high horse, declared Léontine’s suspicions intolerable, and refused to discuss the subject of the necklace at all. But she was not so easily put off.
“If you refuse me an explanation,” she said at last, “I shall simply confess all to Victor, and you will have to treat with a man instead of a woman.”
“Do; confess all to Victor,” replied Papa Bouchard, tartly. “Tell him that sociological yarn you told me.”
“I’m afraid to,” replied Léontine, so dolefully, that it partially softened Monsieur Bouchard, who really had a good heart.
“Come, come, now,” he said. “You had better take my word for it when I tell you that, in spite of appearances, your necklace is safe. I can’t and won’t tell you the circumstances—you and de Meneval would both blazon it over Paris, and it would be devilish uncomfortable—” Papa Bouchard was becoming expert in the use of bad language—“it would be devilish uncomfortable for me. I can straighten the whole thing out in a few days, if you will only keep quiet. Can’t you keep quiet?”
By this time they were re-entering the garden.
“I will agree to keep quiet for a week,” said Léontine, firmly. “At the end of that time, if this unpleasant complication about my necklace is not cleared up, I have a presentiment that the whole thing will get into the newspapers. Just fancy the headlines, ‘Mystery of Madame de Meneval’s Diamond Necklace. Monsieur Paul Bouchard Proved to have Given it to an Adventuress, With Whom he was Caught at the Pigeon House.’”
Papa Bouchard felt his knees grow a little weak under him, and went and sat down in the chair he had lately vacated. Léontine followed him and said dramatically, as if reading the scare head in a great metropolitan daily.
“‘Suicide of Monsieur Paul Bouchard! The late Advocate Discovered in his Apartment With a Pistol Wound Through his Temple! The Apartment presents the Appearance of a Shambles! Blood Over Everything!! Walls and Ceilings Much Bespattered!!!’”