If he returns, you will come
back with him, and the moment his cab stops before the house give
two loud whistles, you know. Then wait for me in the street, taking
care to retain your cab, which you will lend to Monsieur Plantat if
he needs it."
"All right," said Palot, who hastened off without more ado.
M. Plantat and the detective, left alone, began to walk up and down
the gallery; both were grave and silent, as men are at a decisive
moment; there is no chatting about a gaming-table. M. Lecoq
suddenly started; he had just seen his agent at the end of the
gallery. His impatience was so great that he ran toward him,
saying:
"Well?"
"Monsieur, the game has flown, and Palot after him!"
"On foot or in a cab?"
"In a cab."
"Enough. Return to your comrades, and tell them to hold themselves
ready."
Everything was going as Lecoq wished, and he grasped the old
justice's hand, when he was struck by the alteration in his features.
"What, are you ill?" asked he, anxiously.
"No, but I am fifty-five years old, Monsieur Lecoq, and at that age
there are emotions which kill one. Look, I am trembling at the
moment when I see my wishes being realized, and I feel as if a
disappointment would be the death of me.
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