"But," remarked Polyte, with an air of disappointment, "you don't get chances every day, and the business is often a precious poor one. You can't always be seeing chaps prigging boots.""Pooh! pooh!" answered Toto, "if you want to make money in this business, you must keep your eyes about you. Our customers don't come to you, but there is nothing to prevent you going to them. You can hunt until you find them.""And where are you to hunt, if you please?"
"Ah, that's tellings."
A long silence ensued, during which Tantaine was half tempted to come forward. By doing so he would assuredly nip all explanations in the bud; but, on the other hand, he wanted to hear all the young rascal had to say. He therefore only moved a little nearer, and listened more intently.
Forgetting his curls, Toto was abstractedly passing his fingers through his hair, and reflecting with all the wisdom of a muddled brain. Finally, he came to the conclusion that he might speak, and, leaning forward, he whispered,--"You won't peach if I tell you the dodge?"
His companions assured him that he might have every confidence in them.
"Very well; I make my money in the Champs Elysees, and sometimes get a harvest twice a day.""But there are no shoemakers' shops there."
"You are a fool," answered Toto contemptuously. "Do you think Iblackmail thieves? That wouldn't be half good enough. Honest people, or at least people who call themselves honest, are my game. These are the ones who can be made to pay up."Tantaine shuddered; he remembered that Mascarin had made use of the same expression, and at once surmised that Toto must have had an occasional ear to the keyhole.
"But," objected Polyte, "honest people have no occasion to pay up."Toto struck his glass so heavily on the table that it flew to shivers.
"Will you let me speak?" said he.
"Go on, go on, my boy," returned his friend.
"Well, when I'm hard up for cash, I go into the Champs Elysees, and take a seat on one of the benches. From there I keep an eye on the cats, and see who get out of them. If a respectable woman does so, Iam sure of my bird."
"Do you think you know a respectable woman when you see her?""I should think that I did. Well, when a respectable woman gets out of a cab where she ought not to have been, she looks about her on all sides, first to the right and then to the left, settles her veil, and, as soon as she is sure that no one is watching her, sets off as if old Nick was behind her.""Well, what do you do then?"
"Why, I take the number of the cab, and follow the lady home. Then Iwait until she has had time to get to her own rooms, and go to the porter and say, 'Will you give me the name of the lady who has just come in?' ""And do you think the porter is fool enough to do so?""Not a bit; I always take the precaution of having a delicate little purse in my pocket; and when the man says, as he always does, 'I don't know,' I pull out the purse, and say, 'I am sorry for that, for she dropped this as she came in, and I wanted to return it to her.' The porter at once becomes awfully civil; he gives the name and number, and up I go. The first time I content myself with finding out if she is married or single. If she is single, it is no go; but if the reverse, I go on with the job.""Why, what do you do next?"
"Next morning I go there, and hang about until I see the husband go out. Then I go upstairs, and ask for the wife. It is ticklish work then, my lads; but I say, 'Yesterday, madame, I was unlucky enough to leave my pocketbook in cab number so-and-so. Now, as I saw you hail the vehicle immediately after I had left it, I have come to ask you if you saw my pocketbook.' The lady flies into a rage, denies all knowledge of the book, and threatens to have me turned out. Then, with the utmost politeness, I say, 'I see, madame, that there is nothing to be done but to communicate the matter to your husband.' Then she gets alarmed, and--she pays.""And you don't see any more of her?"
"Not that day; but when the funds are low, I call and say, 'It is Iagain, madame; I am the poor young man who lost his money in such and such a cab on a certain day of the month.' And so the game goes on. Adozen such clients give a fellow a very fair income. Now, perhaps, you understand why I am always so well dressed, and always have money in my pocket. When I was shabbily attired, they offered me a five-franc piece, but now they come down with a flimsy."The young wretch spoke the truth; for to many women, who in a mad moment of passion may have forgotten themselves, and been tracked to their homes by some prowling blackmailer, life has been an endless journey of agony. Every knock at the door makes them start, and every footfall on the staircase causes a tremor as they think that the villain has come to betray their guilty secret.
"That is all talk," said Polyte; "such things are never done.""They /are/ done," returned Toto sulkily.
"Have you ever tried the dodge yourself, then?" sneered Polyte.
At another time Chupin would have lied, but the fumes of the drink he had taken, added to his natural self-conceit, had deprived him of all judgment.
"Well," muttered he, "if I have not done it myself exactly, I have seen others practise it often enough--on a much larger scale, it is true; but one can always do things in a more miniature fashion with perhaps a better chance of success.""What! /you/ have seen this done?"
"Of course I have."
"And had you a share in the swag?"
"To a certain extent. I have followed the cabs times without number, and have watched the goings on of these fine ladies and gentlemen;only I was working for others, like the dog that catches the hare, and never has a bit of it to eat. No, all I got was dry bread, with a kick or a cuff for dessert. I sha'n't put up with it any longer, and have made up my mind to open on my own account.""And who has been employing you?"
A flash of sense passed through Chupin's muddled brain. He had never wished to injure Mascarin, but merely to increase his own importance by extolling the greatness of his employer.
"I worked for people who have no equal in Paris," said he proudly.
