XXIII
FROM VAUGIRARD TO MONTMARTRE
On the boulevard du Palais, Jérôme Fandor looked at his watch: it was half an hour after noon.
"The hour for copy! Courage! I will go to La Capitale."
Scarcely had he put foot in the large hall when the editorial secretary called:
"There you are, Fandor!... At last!... That's a good thing!... Whatever have you been up to since yesterday evening? I got them to telephone to you twice, but they could not get on to you, try as they might. My dear fellow, you really mustn't absent yourself without giving us warning."
Fandor looked jovial: certainly not repentant.
"Oh, say at once that I've been in the country!... But seriously, what did you want me for? Is there anything new?..."
"A most mysterious scandal!..."
"Another?"