The young dog fancier’s face bore altogether too noticeable an expression of craft and mischief not to attract the attention of a person who had seen it before. Chérubin instantly recognized the little scamp who was watching the house to which Daréna had taken the so-called Comtesse de Globeska; and, without any very clear idea in what way that encounter might be of service to him, he walked toward Monsieur Bruno, who recognized him and seemed delighted to see him.
“Ah! it’s you, is it, monsieur? I recognize you!” said Bruno, staring impudently at the young man; “you’re the man they tried to gull with a German woman who made believe she was a Pole! Don’t you want to buy my dog? It’s a terrier; he’ll bring things back better’n I do, for I never bring anything back at all. Six francs! that’s not a high price. I found him yesterday and I’m selling him to-day; we’re both hungry, and that’s why I’ll let you have him so cheap.”
“Ah! so you sell dogs now, eh?” said Chérubin.
“Well! I’ve got to do something, as those fellows turned me out-of-doors. You know who I mean—your friend that’s such a bully, and that old thief of a Poterne. You see they’ve taken another girl to the little house yonder, but she’s a very different kind from the Alsatian; she’s a mighty sight prettier.”
A sudden thought flashed through Chérubin’s mind; he led Bruno aside, put twenty francs in his hand, and said to him:
“Here, that’s for you; and ten times as much more if you will help me to find the woman I am looking for.”
“Twenty francs! My eyes! what luck! I never had so much money at once. The dog’s yours.”
“Now answer my questions. Daréna and Poterne, you say, have taken a young girl to the house outside the barrier?”
“Yes, in a carriage, an old cab.”
“How long since? do you know?”