But Freluchon was not at home; he had gone with Edmond to the Champs-Elysées, at the time appointed by Thélénie, and there the two young men, concealed in the shadow, had witnessed part of the adventure, and had divined the rest when they saw Chamoureau tumbling out of the coupé very soon after he had entered. They laughed like maniacs when they saw the unlucky agent running after his hat. Then they returned to the centre of Paris.
"You say Freluchon isn't in?" stammered Chamoureau, when the concierge stopped him on his way upstairs. "Well, then I will come again to-morrow morning; tell him to wait for me! tell him that I forbid him to go out until he has seen me! and that he hasn't heard the last of this! You understand: he hasn't heard the last of this!"
The concierge heard doubtless; but he did not seem at all impressed by the way in which Chamoureau emphasized his words, and the latter went away, muttering:
"I have been victimized by Freluchon's jests too long; this thing has got to come to an end!"
The next morning, at seven o'clock, Chamoureau entered Freluchon's bedroom; his friend was still in bed and shouted when he saw him:
"May the devil take you for coming to wake me at this hour; I was sleeping like one of the blessed,—the blessed, you know, sleep splendidly;—you come too early!"
"I am glad to see, Freluchon, that you have followed the orders I gave your concierge—and waited for me."
"You! give orders to my concierge! that is delightful, on my word!"
"No joking; I didn't come here to joke. I am perfectly serious.—What! you are lying down again?"
"Yes, I am still sleepy; but that makes no difference, say on."