"Twenty-four hours gained anyway, but I wonder where the devil I can get hold of this Wulf? I might catch him at the Moulin-Rouge ... Fandor sent him there."
Juve drove to the music hall and, showing his card, questioned the officials.
"I'm looking for a fat little man, probably slightly drunk, foreign accent, wears a brown coat, tight trousers, white spats, and is plastered all over with decorations."
"I saw him," cried one of the ushers. "I checked his overcoat and noticed the decorations. He left some time ago."
"Confound it!" muttered Juve. "You don't know why he left so early? The show is only beginning."
The usher smiled.
"Well, he carried a couple of girls away with him. Probably he's in some nearby café."
Juve decided to spend the whole night, if necessary, to find Wulf, and began a systematic search through all the cafés of Montmartre.
At length, about three in the morning, he decided to give himself a rest and take a drink. For this purpose he entered a small café at the corner of the Rue de Douai and the Rue Victor-Masse, and ordered a beer. He put the usual question:
"You don't happen to have seen a fat little man, drunk and profusely decorated?"