It was half an hour after midnight. The owner of _The Crying Calf_ shouted in a stentorian voice:

"Now, boys! It's only seven sous drinks now!"

It was the accustomed warning, taken as a matter of course.

Protesting in a squeaky voice that his const.i.tution was weakly, that his doctor had ordered him not to sit up late, the Scrub, who feared a meeting with Bobinette, knowing she had little liking for him, now took himself off.

Geoffrey ordered two drinks. He was bored. Bobinette was behind her promised time. He would have left, but Bobinette would pay for his drinks--a nice little total!

At last she appeared: an out-of-breath Bobinette, and somewhat fl.u.s.tered.

She was quietly dressed--almost shabby. This was no place for one of the elegant toilettes affected by Mademoiselle de Naarboveck's companion!... After her Rouen journey, after her meeting with Lieutenant de Loubersac in the train, she had thought it wiser not to go back to the baron's house. She had written to say she was ill. Then she had taken refuge in a quiet little inn in la Chapelle neighbourhood, there to await events.

Vagualame's arrest had made a terrible impression on her.... Vagualame had not betrayed her; but she sensed snares, pitfalls all about her: she might be trapped any minute: she must disappear! After Vagualame's arrest she had had but one idea: to get rid of the gun piece, hand it to the foreign power, and receive the promised reward.... When, instead of Corporal Vinson, whom she had summoned in accordance with her orders, she had perceived Fandor, she was puzzled, suspicious.

If Bobinette went to the meeting place in her own undisguised person, and met Fandor as Fandor, it was because she had had the same idea as the journalist.

"I will walk through the arcades as Bobinette, and I shall see if Corporal Vinson is there, or if, by chance, he is not alone!"

That same day at Rouen she had had a bad shock. The telegram she had received at the garage was from Vagualame!... How could an arrested Vagualame send her a telegram, and such a telegram?

This telegram, in their usual cypher, informed her that at all costs, and at once, she must separate herself from Corporal Vinson, who was not the real Vinson, but a counter-spy!... Bobinette all but fainted from fright.... She must escape from this counter-spy!... Yet, owing to the false Vinson's insistence, she had been forced to share his room!... He did not mean to let her out of his sight, that was plain!...

No sooner had the false Vinson gone down to the car in the morning than Bobinette had slipped off, hot foot for Rouen. The gun piece was left behind! The chauffeur would bear the brunt of that, thought Bobinette, as she sped on her way. Later, she read of his arrest and release.

Her meeting with Lieutenant de Loubersac and the sight of the false Vinson's arrest at the Saint Lazare station showed the terrified girl that things had gone mysteriously, hopelessly wrong!...

Without resources, Bobinette had p.a.w.ned her few jewels. Then a letter from Vagualame had reached her. She had obeyed the instructions it contained.... That he had learned her address did not surprise her: she knew he never lost track of those it was to his interest to keep an eye on.

Before Vagualame's note reached her she had been worried and bored.

"I must make sure of shelter and protection if needs be," she reflected: "I will look up Geoffrey. We will meet at _The Crying Calf_, it is safe there!"

"Sit you down here, little Bobine!" suggested Hogshead Geoffrey....

"And now, what will you take?"

Bobinette ordered a gooseberry syrup.

"Quite the lady's drink," remarked mine host of the wine-shop with a humorous air.

Brother and sister exchanged confidences.... The good Geoffrey told of his fight, of situations obtained and lost, of fisticuff encounters, of quarrels and blows.... Bobinette went so far as to say that she was very happy, very much at her ease.

"Just imagine," said she: "I am companion to an old lady, a Russian, who in her time has had trouble with the police of her country, I think."

"The police? I don't like the police!" interrupted her brother.

"Who does?" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Bobinette. "Lots of people come to her house. I go to all the dinners, all the parties!"

"Ah, then, you'll foot the bill, Bobine, if you have such a rich situation?"

"I will pay, Geoffrey," said Bobinette: "This old lady, I think."...

Bobinette stopped. She went white as a sheet.... An old man had just entered the wine-shop. His steps were uncertain, his back was bent under the weight of an old accordion.

It was Vagualame....

XXIX

I AM TROKOFF

Bobinette's astonishment was so evident that Hogshead Geoffrey, whose powers of observation were small, was struck by his sister's expression.

"You know that old fellow?" he asked. "If he bothers you you've but to pa.s.s the word, you know, and I'll soon put him on the other side of the door!"

This amiable offer terrified the girl. She felt sure Vagualame was not at _The Crying Calf_ by chance. He had probably followed her--wished to have a word with her.... She must fall in with his wishes. She must cut short this interview with her brother. After all, it was only to pa.s.s the time she had come.

"Keep quiet, Geoffrey," she said: "I do not know the old boy, and you deceive yourself if you think he annoys me!... Besides, my dear Geoffrey, I must be off!"

"Be off!... Whatever's come to you, Bobine?"

"I have business on hand elsewhere.... And now that I know you are quite well, Geoffrey, I shall continue my walk."

"True?" protested the bewildered giant: "You're going to cut your stick already?"

"Call the governor!... There's a twenty-franc piece for you! Pay for your drinks and keep the rest," was Bobinette's effective reply.

Hogshead calmed down at once.

"As long as you pay up, Bobine, I've nothing to say; but, all the same, you have queer ideas.... You bring me here to keep an appointment, and then, we're not five minutes together, when up you get on the trot again!"

Bobinette caught her brother's huge fist in a quick handshake, made for the door of _The Crying Calf_, turned out of rue Monge at a slow pace, convinced that Vagualame would join her.

The street was deserted. Bobinette kept in the shadow, avoiding the bright patches cast on the silent roadway from the wine-shops and taverns still open and alight.

She had been walking about five minutes when she felt that someone was walking behind her, hastening to overtake her.... A hand was laid on her shoulder: Vagualame was beside her, regulating his steps by hers.

"Is that species of giant your brother?" he asked.

Bobinette nodded.

"You are free, then?" she asked, breathing hard.

"It looks like it!"

"Who released you?"