The proprietor at once grew excited.
"I should think I have seen him. He came in here asking for some outlandish brand of cigarettes, and ended by taking the cheapest I had, then paid for them with foreign money. And when I refused to take it, he threatened me with some King or other! Aren't we still a republic, I should like to know?"
Evidently, from the description, it could be no other than the peripatetic Wulf.
"Was he alone?" asked Juve.
"Oh, he brought in a little blonde with him, but when she saw his fake money, I guess she gave him the slip, for he turned to the right and she went up the street in the opposite direction."
"The devil!" exclaimed Juve; "the trail is lost again."
A waiter stepped forward.
"I think he went to the Courcelles Station; he asked me where it was."
Juve stood staring in amazement. What on earth could Wulf want to go there for?