"Ah!" cried he, saluting the gentlemen of the long robe: "Why, there are two of you!"
"Naturally," replied de Naarboveck: "Did not your colleague let you know that my secretary had joined me?"
"I knew he was coming, but I did not understand that he had already come," replied the man.
De Naarboveck laughed.
"We leave together—what more natural?"
"It is your right," grumbled the man: "Have you finished your interrogation of the accused Fandor?"
As he asked this pertinent question, the jailor made a movement to enter the prison and make sure that the prisoner's cell was locked. De Naarboveck caught his arm.
"Look here, my man," said he, slipping a silver coin into the jailor's hand: "We are not suitably dressed for the street, and our ordinary clothes are at the Palais de Justice. Will you be kind enough to stop a cab for us? We can get into it at the courtyard entrance!"
The jailor decided that he could safely postpone his visit to Fandor's cell. He went out into the courtyard with the two apparent advocates. Standing on the step of the courtyard gate he looked out for a passing cab.
A taxi-driver scented customers. He drove alongside the pavement. In a moment de Naarboveck and Fandor were seated inside it, and, whilst waving his hand to the respectful and gratified warder, he instructed the driver in a clear voice: