“And it is for my Cartouche—and would Cartouche hesitate at making such a sacrifice for me? No! A thousand times no! And I can not do less than all for Cartouche, whom I love. It is my duty to use every means, even a monkey, to get rid of Louis Bourcet.”
But where should she find a place to buy a monkey? That she could not think of, but her fertile mind suggested an expedient even better than the mere purchase of a single monkey. She stopped at one of those movable booths, wherein sat a man who did writing for those unable to write as well as they wished, or unable to write at all. The booth was plastered over with advertisements of articles for sale, but naturally no monkeys were offered.
The man in the booth, a bright-eyed cripple, looked up when Fifi tapped on the glass of the little open window.
“Monsieur,” said Fifi, sweetly, “if you please, I am very anxious for a monkey—a dear little monkey, for a pet; but I do not know where to find one, and my family will not assist me in finding one. If I should pay you, say five francs, would you write an advertisement for a monkey, and let it be pasted with the other advertisements on your booth?”
“Ten francs,” responded the man.
Fifi laid the ten francs down.
“Now, write in very large letters: ‘Wanted—A monkey, for a lady’s pet; must be well trained, and not malicious. Apply at No. 14 Rue de l’Echelle. Any person bringing a monkey will receive a franc for his trouble, if the monkey is not purchased.’”
“Do you wish any snakes or parrots, Mademoiselle?” asked the man, pocketing his ten francs.
“No, thank you; the monkey, I think, will answer all my purposes,” responded Fifi with dignity.
It was then past noon, and Fifi, having spent a most enjoyable morning, called a fiacre and directed the cabman to take her home.