The curtain with its pictured red cock was down, lights were up in the modern Cinema Concert Hall, rue des Poissonniers. Most of the spectators were on the move. An old white-bearded man of poverty-stricken appearance rose from his seat beside a pretty, red-haired girl, elegantly dressed. He murmured:
"I am going out for a smoke."
The girl nodded. She stared at the spectators with indifferent eyes. They were mostly women and girls. There was a mingled odour of hot coffee and orange peel. Drinks and refreshments, for the good of the house, were now the order of the evening.
The odd-looking old fellow, with a shabby accordion slung over his bent shoulders, making his way to the exit, was detective Juve, Juve-Vagualame in fact. He had kept the appointment made with Bobinette a week ago. This cinema entertainment in an unfashionable quarter suited his purpose exactly. In such an audience his appearance would attract but little attention, and the long intervals of darkness were all in his favour. Bobinette must not have her suspicions aroused.
Juve-Vagualame marched up and down outside the hall, rubbing his hands with satisfaction. Things were going well. Bobinette had been with him less than an hour, but she had given him an almost complete account of her doings during the past week. She announced that her trip to the frontier had been crowned with success: that the plan arranged with Corporal Vinson had proved astonishingly successful. She could not praise this wonderful Vinson enough. How intelligent he was? Say but half a word and he understood everything. As cynical as you please, he would stick at nothing, declaring himself ready for anything, regardless of consequences!
From this, Juve-Vagualame gathered that Corporal Vinson was a daring traitor, was the most out-and-out scoundrel imaginable.
Bobinette also told her supposed chief that the moment for the great stroke was at hand. She whispered low: "To-morrow Vinson will be in Paris!"
Juve had already learned that Vinson was stationed at Verdun, was granted frequent leave, and that on the morning of December 1st he would be in Paris. This was the evening of November 30th! Bobinette had not said exactly what he was coming to do, and Juve feared to ask questions that might arouse the red-haired girl's suspicions.
A shrill-sounding bell warned spectators that the interval was over. Juve-Vagualame returned to his seat. He was saying to himself:
"I must know exactly what Vinson is coming to Paris for."