"Excuse me, monsieur; but all canes haven't an agate head cut like this one."
"If they had, they would be too common, and I wouldn't want one."
"Well, monsieur, I lost my cane and my hat at a wedding party which I attended about two months ago; that is to say, I didn't positively lose them, but they were exchanged—and I didn't gain by the change! In place of my hat, which had a band exactly like this—very broad—and the same shape—they left a pitiful, disgraceful thing; and I was obliged to buy a new one the next day; and in place of my cane I found a sort of switch, of the kind they beat clothes with—not worth six sous!"
"Corbleu! monsieur, what do you mean to imply by all this? This cane that you lost, with an agate head—and your hat with a band like this—do you know that I am beginning to lose my temper? Do you mean to say that I stole your cane?"
"No, monsieur—but——"
"Then you insult me, and I will not brook an insult!—When we leave this café, we will go and cut each other's throats, like a couple of young dandies!"
"Never, monsieur; not by any means! I am mistaken, monsieur; I am wrong. No, no, it isn't my cane—let it be as if I had said nothing; I beg your pardon."
The little bald man, trembling like a leaf, seemed inclined to disappear under the table at which he was seated. Cherami, having reflected two or three minutes, looked at him with an affable expression, and said:
"Didn't you lose something else at the party you mentioned just now."
"Something else? yes, I did, monsieur; I was in bad luck that night! When I arrived at the ball, I had lost one of my gloves—a yellow glove. To be sure, it was returned to me later—but in such a state!"