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CHAPTER VI

THE Grand-Archange Hôtel, the refuge of Madame Gypsy, is the finest on the Quai Saint-Michel.

Madame Alexandré, the proprietress, once a beautiful woman, had become too big, though her eyes were still bright and her teeth white, but alas her nose was red.

She adored her husband, and just when M. Patrigent was leaving the Hospital she was waiting dinner for him.

Fanferlot himself appeared. They had met three years before, when she employed him as a private inquiry agent. They got married and with their joint savings took and furnished the Grand-Archange Hôtel, where they prospered and were esteemed. Fanferlot’s employment in the detective service was kept a secret.

‘How late you are,’ she said as she kissed him.

‘I am worn out,’ he said; ‘I have been playing billiards all day with Evariste, M. Fauvel’s valet, and he won as often as he liked; he is a fellow who has no knowledge of anything but billiards. I made his acquaintance the day before yesterday and now I am his best friend. I am sure of his support if I apply for Antonin’s berth as messenger.’

‘What, you a messenger!’

‘Yes, I must take the position to make inquiries there.’

‘Did not the valet tell you anything?’

‘Nothing of much use. The banker is a saint. He has no vices. He does not drink, gamble or keep a mistress. He is enormously rich and lives frugally. He loves his wife and children; he often has visitors but rarely goes out.’

‘How old is his wife?’

‘About fifty.’

‘Have you found out,’ Madame Alexandré asked, ‘about the other members of the family?’

‘Oh, yes. The younger son is an officer somewhere. The elder, Lucien, lives with his parents and is a model of virtue. I have found out nothing about the wife or the niece.’

‘Do you know what I would do if I were in your place?’

‘No.’

‘I would consult M. Lecoq.’

The name made Fanferlot jump.

‘That is fine advice,’ he said. ‘I should lose my position if he even suspected what I was doing.’

‘I mean, ask his advice in an offhand way.’