Through the Wall Part 48

"Good-by and good luck," said Coquenil, clasping Tignol's hand, "and--don't let her worry."

The cab rolled on, and M. Paul, bag in hand, strode down a side street; but just at the corner he turned and looked after the hurrying vehicle, and his eyes were full of sadness and yearning.

Tuesday, the fourteenth of July! The great French holiday! All Paris in the streets, bands playing, soldiers marching, everybody happy or looking happy! And from early morning all trains, 'buses, cabs, automobiles, in short, all moving things in the gay city were rolling a jubilant mult.i.tude toward the Bois de Boulogne, where the President of the Republique was to review the troops before a million or so of his fellow-citizens. Coquenil had certainly chosen the busiest end of Paris for his meeting with Papa Tignol.

Their rendezvous was at noon, but two hours earlier Tignol took the train at the St. Lazare station. And with him came Caesar, such a changed, unrecognizable Caesar! Poor dog! His beautiful, glossy coat of brown and white had been clipped to ridiculous shortness, and he crouched at the old man's feet in evident humiliation.

"It was a shame, old fellow," said Tignol consolingly, "but we had to obey orders, eh? Never mind, it will grow out again."

Leaving the train at Auteuil, they walked down the Rue La Fontaine to a tavern near the Rue Mozart, where the old man left Caesar in charge of the proprietor, a friend of his. It was now a quarter to eleven, and Tignol spent the next hour riding back and forth on the circular railway between Auteuil and various other stations; he did this because Coquenil had charged him to be sure he was not followed; he felt reasonably certain that he was not, but he wished to be absolutely certain.

So he rode back to the Avenue Henri Martin, where he crossed the platform and boarded a returning train for the Champs de Mars, telling the guard he had made a mistake. Two other pa.s.sengers did the same, a young fellow and a man of about fifty, with a rough gray beard. Tignol did not see the young fellow again, but when he got off at the Champs de Mars, the gray-bearded man got off also and followed across the bridge to the opposite platform, where both took the train back to Auteuil.

This was suspicious, so at Auteuil Tignol left the station quickly, only to return a few minutes later and buy another ticket for the Avenue Henri Martin. There once more he crossed the platform and took a train for the Champs de Mars, and this time he congratulated himself that no one had followed him; but when he got off, as before, at the Champs de Mars and crossed the bridge, he saw the same gray-bearded man crossing behind him.

There was no doubt of it, he was being shadowed.

And now Tignol waited until the train back to Auteuil was about starting, then he deliberately got into a compartment where the gray-bearded man was seated alone. And, taking out pencil and paper, he proceeded to write a note for Coquenil. Their meeting was now impossible, so he must fasten this explanation, along with his full report, under Caesar's collar and let the dog be messenger, as had been arranged.

"I am sending this by Caesar," he wrote, "because I am watched. The man following me is a bad-looking brute with dirty gray beard and no mustache.

He has a nervous trick of half shutting his eyes and jerking up the corners of his mouth, which shows the worst set of ugly yellow teeth I ever saw.

I'd like to have one of them for a curiosity."

"Would you?" said the man suddenly, as if answering a question.

Tignol stared at him.

"Excuse me," explained the other, "but I read handwriting upside down."

"Oh!"

"You say you would like one of my teeth?"

"Don't trouble," smiled Tignol.

"It's no trouble," declared the stranger. "On the contrary!" and seizing one of his yellow fangs between thumb and first finger he gave a quick wrench. "There!" he said with a hideous grin, and he handed Tignol the tooth.

They were just coming into the Auteuil station as this extraordinary maneuver was accomplished.

"I'll be d.a.m.ned!" exclaimed Tignol.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "'There!' he said with a hideous grin, and he handed Tignol the tooth."]

"Is it really as good as that?" asked the stranger, in a tone that made the old man jump.

Tignol leaned closer, and then in a burst of admiration he cried: "_Nom de dieu! It's Coquenil!_"

CHAPTER XX

THE MEMORY OF A DOG

"It's a composition of rubber," laughed Coquenil. "You slip it on over your own tooth. See?" and he put back the yellow fang.

"Extraordinary!" muttered Tignol. "Even now I hardly know you."

"Then I ought to fool the wood carver."

"Fool him? You would fool your own mother. That reminds me--" He rose as the train stopped.

"Yes, yes?" questioned M. Paul eagerly. "Tell me about my mother. Is she well? Is she worried? Did you give her all my messages? Have you a letter for me?"

Tignol smiled. "There's a devoted son! But the old lady wouldn't like you with those teeth. Eh, eh! Shades of Vidocq, what a make-up! We'd better get out! I'll tell you about my visit as we walk along."

"Where are you going?" asked the detective, as the old man led the way toward the Rue La Fontaine.

"Going to get the dog," answered Tignol.

"No, no," objected M. Paul. "I wouldn't have Caesar see me like this. I have a room on the Rue Poussin; I'll go back there first and take off some of this."

"As you please," said Tignol, and he proceeded to give Coquenil the latest news of his mother, all good news, and a long letter from the old lady, full of love and wise counsels and prayers for her boy's safety.

"There's a woman for you!" murmured M. Paul, and the tenderness of his voice contrasted oddly with the ugliness of his disguise.

"Suppose I get the dog while you are changing?" suggested Tignol. "You know he's been clipped?"

"Poor Caesar! Yes, get him. My room is across the street. Walk back and forth along here until I come down."

Half an hour later Coquenil reappeared almost his ordinary self, except that he wore neither mustache nor eyegla.s.ses, and, instead of his usual neat dress he had put on the shabby black coat and the battered soft hat that he had worn in leaving the Hotel des etrangers.

"Ah, Caesar! Old fellow!" he cried fondly as the dog rushed to meet him with barks of joy. "It's good to have a friend like that! Where is the man who cares so much? Or the woman either--except one?"

"There's one woman who seems to care a lot about this dog," remarked Tignol. "I mean the candle girl. Such a fuss as she made when I went to get him!"

M. Paul listened in surprise. "What did she do?"

"Do? She cried and carried on in a great way. She said something was going to happen to Caesar; she didn't want me to take him."

"Strange!" muttered the other.

"I told her I was only taking him to you, and that you would bring him back to-night. When she had heard that she caught my two hands in hers and said I must tell you she wanted to see you very much. There's something on her mind or--or she's afraid of something."

Coquenil frowned and twisted his seal ring, then he changed it deliberately from the left hand to the right, as if with some intention.