The Clique of Gold by Émile Gaboriau
page 14 of 698 (02%)
page 14 of 698 (02%)
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"Well, that is always the way," said Papa Ravinet boldly. "However, the doctor will bleed her, if there is any necessity." And, turning to Master Chevassat, he added,-- "But we are in the way of these ladies; suppose we go down and take something? We can come back when the child is comfortably put to bed." The good man lived, to tell the truth, in the same rooms in which the thousand and one things he was continually buying were piled up in vast heaps. There was no fixed place for his bed even. He slept where he could, or, rather, wherever an accidental sale had cleared a space for the time,--one night in a costly bed of the days of Louis XIV., and the next night on a lounge that he would have sold for a few francs. Just now he occupied a little closet not more than three-quarters full; and here he asked the concierge to enter. He poured some brandy into two small wineglasses, put a teakettle on the fire, and sank into an arm-chair; then he said,-- "Well, M. Chevassat, what a terrible thing this is!" His visitor had been well drilled by his wife, and said neither yes nor no; but the old merchant was a man of experience, and knew how to loosen his tongue. "The most disagreeable thing about it," he said with an absent air, "is, that the doctor will report the matter to the police, and there will be an investigation." |
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