It was a frowsy, dirty place, at the window of which hung faded red blinds, much stained and fly-blown. From where I stood I could see that the ceiling, once white, was brown and discoloured by the gas, and the gilt decorations blackened and smoke-begrimed. It was called the Café de l’Étoile.
Dare I enter and risk detection?
Now that I had discovered them I intended to watch and find out where they were staying, so that Kaye and his staff might keep them under observation. The reason for their presence in Paris was without doubt a sinister one. Of all the men in the whole world who were my enemies the man Wolf was the bitterest; and next to him was this dark-faced Italian, with whom he had been walking so confidentially arm-in-arm.
As I stood in hesitation, an ill-dressed, unkempt fellow reeled out of the café, singing in a husky voice a vagabond song. His hat was askew, and he beat time with his finger:
Qu’ ça peut vous faire où qu’ nous allons?
Ça vous r’garde pas, que j’ suppose.
D’abord, j’allons où qu’ nous voulons...
... Où qu’ vous voulez... c’est la mêm’ chose.
Vous êtes d’ ceux qu’ont des états?
Ben! qué qu’ vous voulez qu’ ça nous foute?
Des états!... j’en connaissons pas...
Nous, not’ métier, c’ést d’marcher su’ la route.
I strolled past the place and peered inside. A quick scrutiny sufficed to show that the two men were not visible; therefore, I concluded that they were at a table close behind the door. Thrice I passed and repassed, until I became convinced of the fact. The red blinds were drawn, and, although the door was half open, I could not, from the pavement, see who was sitting at the table behind it. In Paris, however, it is often a trick of those who lounge in cafés and desire to pass unnoticed to sit close behind the door with their backs to it, thus occupying a position which does not in the least expose them to passers-by.
Presently, emboldened by the fact that the little place seemed sleepy and half-deserted, I lit a cigarette, and, slipping into the doorway, stood with my ears open to catch every sound. Yes, they were there, as I had supposed. I heard words in Italian spoken rather low and confidentially. I distinctly heard my own name mentioned, together with that of the Princess von Leutenberg. Wolf it was who spoke of her sneeringly.
“I’ve seen her of late in Vienna,” he laughed. “Retirement at Rudolstadt did not suit her.”
“Is there any truth in what is said regarding the reason of her stay at Chantoiseau?”
“Certainly,” replied Wolf.