Wilhelmine, with a look of sorrowful disappointment, closed her lips: she was resolutely mute.
Henri de Loubersac brightened up, thanked her with a frankness so spontaneous, so sincere, that it would have touched the hardest woman's heart, and Wilhelmine's was a supremely tender and sensitive one. Yet, when he again asked for whom she was going to pray, for whom was the delicious bouquet of violets she was carrying, half hidden in her muff, she murmured:
"That is my secret.... If I told you the name of the person at whose tomb I am going to pray, it would have no significance for you."
"Wilhelmine! Let me accompany you!" implored de Loubersac.... "I love you so much—you must forgive my blundering!"
The lovers discussed the question: finally, Wilhelmine's hesitations were overcome: de Loubersac carried the day triumphantly.
Mademoiselle Berthe had fallen behind: she had kept a discreet distance between the lovers and herself, but had watched them with the eyes of a lynx. Now Wilhelmine waited for her to come up with them; then she requested her companion to stay in the quiet avenue Rachel while she and Lieutenant de Loubersac went into the cemetery.
No sooner had they disappeared than Bobinette set off as fast as she could go in the direction of the boulevard de Clichy. Yes, there was the sordid figure of Old Vagualame, bent under the weight of years and of his ancient accordion: he seemed to be stooping more than usual.
Had he also followed them? He had. Thus Juve-Vagualame was continuing his quest with the hope of getting further light on the series of mysteries he was seeking to solve. He must learn more of Bobinette's relations with Fantômas, whom she apparently knew only under the guise of Vagualame. Juve had made himself up so carefully that he felt confident even the bandit's intimates would not suspect they had to do with a police officer. Its quality was soon proved: Bobinette came towards him with not a sign of uneasiness.
"There you are, then!" she cried.