AT "THE CRYING CALF"

"What's your drink?"

"What's your offer?"

Hogshead Geoffrey, also nicknamed "The Barrel," thumped the table with a formidable fist, at the risk of upsetting a pile of saucers, which, at this advanced hour of the evening, showed clearly how he had spent the hours pa.s.sed in the wine-shop.

"What do I offer?" he retorted. "I offer what's wanted. I don't haggle. When I ask a fellow: 'Old man, what do you want to wet your gullet?' that means: 'Choose.' There now!"

Hogshead Geoffrey's companion merely said:

"Pa.s.s the programme!"

Once in possession of the wine-list--if such could be called the crumpled, dirty paper on which the owner of the house had scribbled in pencil the fresh drinks, composed of indescribable mixtures specially recommended to his clients--the guest of Hogshead Geoffrey became absorbed in the list of strange beverages.

So mean-looking an individual was this guest that he had been nicknamed "The Scrub." He also answered to the more aristocratic t.i.tle of "Sacristan." Once he had been sacristan at the church of Saint-Sulpice, but intemperate habits had led to his dismissal. What odd link there was between this sorry little fellow and the robust Geoffrey?[7]

[Footnote 7: See _Fantomas_: vol. i, Fantomas Series]

The Scrub ordered: "A thick 'un--jolly thick!" He eyed his host.

"What's been your lay? I haven't clapped eyes on you for days!"

Hogshead Geoffrey emptied his gla.s.s at one go. Leaning his head against the wall, his fists on the table, his legs stretched out, he stared at the ceiling.

The atmosphere of this den in the rue Monge was poisonous with the odours of stale wine and rank tobacco. The musty air was thick, the shop was ill-lighted by one jet of gas in the centre of the room.

"Well, old Scrub," said Geoffrey at last. "You haven't seen me because you haven't!... You remember I pa.s.sed the Markets' test and was nominated market porter?"

"Jolly well I do!... We had a famous drinking bout that time!"

"That's so, Scrub!... And my sister Bobinette paid the piper!... You remember I was rejected?... Well, I got into the Markets all the same!... Then--one fine day I gave a tallykeeper a regular knock-down-and-outer!"

"You did?"

"Just didn't I?... I gave him such a oner--just like this!"...

Lifting his enormous hairy fist, Hogshead Geoffrey brought it down on the table with disastrous results: the ancient worm-eaten board was split from end to end!

Flattering remarks were showered on this colossus from all sides.

"Ho! ho! Nothing can resist me!" shouted Hogshead Geoffrey.... "Give me anything you choose!... Every table in the room! No matter what!

I'll break it in two--man or woman! Wood or stone!... It's all one to me!"

True or not, Hogshead Geoffrey, when not too much in liquor, was a gentle soul, a simple, kind creature; quick-tempered, kind-hearted.

Liable to sudden gusts of anger, he was equally capable of knocking the life out of a comrade with his gigantic fist or of comforting some sniveling street urchin crossing his path.

Well did the Scrub know it. He too was a contradictory mixture. This mean little human specimen had been newsboy, seller of post cards, opener of cab doors, Jack of any little trade, the companion of pickpockets and other light-fingered gentry, also adored the good manners of bygone vestry days, the polished phrases, the benedictory gestures!

When in hospital, chance had given him Hogshead Geoffrey for bed-neighbour. It did not take him long to realise that he would be the gainer by a friendship with this kindly giant: it would be a partnership of brain and muscle.... The Scrub commanded: Geoffrey executed.

When the admiration for his prowess had died down, Hogshead Geoffrey continued his story:

"When I had given the chief the knock-out, the next day they gave me the order of the boot, if you would believe me!... I was properly down and out! I hadn't saved a sou--was in debt right and left, to the wine-shops--was all but run in!"...

"What did you do?" enquired the Scrub.

"Bobinette helped me."

"Your sister?"

"Oh, she's a sharp one!... She's studied, too!... She did the bandages at Lariboise!... She had the sous!... I told her my troubles!... She let me have the dibs, so I could hang on!"

"Until you got a billet at _The Big Tun_?"

"No!... Bobine said: 'Here's gold, little brother! It's all I have ...

don't come for more!... You must find a way out of the mess!'"

"And you did?... How?"

Hogshead Geoffrey hesitated: he sipped his absinthe.

"Oh ... well ... I found a way out."...

"How? I ask you."...

"I tell you I managed all right! And then I got my job at _The Big Tun_."

"Where you are now?"

"Where I am."

"You paid back your sister?"

Hogshead Geoffrey roared with laughter.

"I paid her back so little that I didn't know what had become of her!... She had turned her back on Lariboise without leaving an address.... Thought she must have kicked the bucket!... I would have been sorry for that!... She's a good sort!... But yesterday I had word from her.... Bobinette asked me to meet her."...

"You told her to come here?"

"Sure!"

"And how did she know your address?"

Hogshead Geoffrey scratched his big head.

"Lordy! I don't know!... Probably she saw my name quoted the other day in the _Pet.i.t Journal_, among the conquerors in the Who's Strongest Compet.i.tion. She wrote putting the number of my old shanty, rue de la Harpe!... No good being astonished at what she does!... I tell you she has education--she has!"...