“Her horse Sultan.”
He whispered the words with solemn reverence. I must confess to being tired of the horse Sultan and disinclined to treat his loss seriously.
“Monsieur Saupiquet,” said I, “doubtless offered her every consolation.”
“He used to travel with her and look after Sultan's well-being. He was her——”
“Her Master of the Horse,” I suggested.
“Precisely. You have the power of using the right word, Monsieur de Gex. It is a great gift. My good friend Saupiquet is attached to a circus at present stationed in Toulon. He came over, at my request, to see me—on affairs of the deepest importance”—he waved the bundle of papers—“the very deepest importance. Nicht wahr, Saupiquet?”
“Bien sur,” murmured Saupiquet, who evidently did not count loquacity among his vices.
I wondered whether these important affairs concerned the whereabouts of Captain Vauvenarde; but the dwarf's air of mystery forbade my asking for his confidence. Besides, what should a groom in a circus know of retired Captains of Chasseurs? I said:
“You're a very busy man, Monsieur le Professeur.”
He tapped his domelike forehead. “I am never idle. I carry on here gigantic combinations. I should have been a lawyer. I can spread nets that no one sees, and then—pst! I draw the rope and the victim is in the toils of Anastasius Papadopoulos. Hast du nicht das bemerkt, Saupiquet?”