"Where is Sylvestre?" I at last inquired, to break the tense silence.
"Who knows? He left about half-an-hour ago, saying he would soon be back.
He is off on some madcap expedition, you may be sure. He is a dreadful
_farceur._"
At that moment no fewer than three barrel-organs came up the street,
stopped nearly opposite the house, and started playing "The man who broke
the bank at Monte Carlo," and other similar classics. I was at the window
and saw Sylvestre go gravely up to the detectives, bow, say a few words,
and cross over to our door. Madame rushed out to open to him.
"So here you are, Mademoiselle. All is well, I hope?" he inquired.
I nodded assent.
"Oh, what a game it will be to see their faces to-morrow when Deveril
comes round with his warrant! Meanwhile, I was sure those poor devils were
boring themselves to death, so I went down to the Italian quarter and
brought back these musicians. I have just told them that I hope the music
will help them to pass a pleasant half-hour."
Just then Bonafede came down, followed by the false Matthieu. The lower
part of his face was concealed in a muffler, and the illusion was really
very deceptive.
"I am going now for the cab," said the Italian. As soon as I return Yoski
must hurry out, jump in rapidly, and drive off. I shall be waiting for
you, Isabel, and Matthieu with a cab just by Shoolbred's; time to leave
the house five minutes after the departure of Yoski.
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