"The wretches!" he growled. "One couldn't draw a
pint of manly blood from the veins of all six of them. Ah, if
they knew how I hate them!"
But he had not long to nurse his wrath. On reaching the Rue
Drouot, two of the gentlemen left the party, and two more went
down the Rue Lepelletier. M. Wilkie and the viscount were left to
walk down the boulevard alone. They linked their arms and carried
on an animated conversation until they reached the Rue du Helder,
where they shook hands and separated. What had they said at
parting? What agreement had been made between them? Chupin would
willingly have given a hundred sous from his private purse to have
known. He would have given as much more to have been able to
double himself, in order to pursue the viscount, who had started
off in the direction of the Madeleine, without having to give up
watching and following his friend. But the days of miracles are
over. So Chupin sighed, and, following Wilkie, he soon saw him
enter No. 48 of the Rue du Helder. The concierge, who was at the
door busily engaged in polishing the bell-handle, bowed
respectfully. "So there it is!" grumbled Chupin. "I knew he
lived there--I knew it by the way that Madame d'Argeles looked at
the windows yesterday evening. Poor woman! Ah! her son's a fine
fellow and no mistake!"
His compassion for the unhappy mother seemed to recall him to a
sense of duty. "Scoundrel that I am!" he exclaimed, striking his
forehead with his clenched fist.
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