Turning, I met a second black
gaze--that of the quadroon who having restored order had returned from
the cafe door and now stood regarding me. "Did you find it on the
floor?" asked Miguel suspiciously.
"I did."
He turned to the Algerian.
"It fell when you kicked the knife from the hand of that pig," he
said. "You should be more careful."
Again they exchanged significant glances, but the Algerian resumed
his seat and Miguel went behind the counter. I left the cafe
conscious of the fact that black looks pursued me.
The night was very dark, and as I came out on to the pavement someone
touched me on the arm. I turned in a flash.
"Walk on, friend," said the voice of Jean Sach. "What was it that you
picked up from the floor?"
"A golden scorpion," I answered quickly.
"Ah!" he whispered--"I thought so! It is enough. They shall pay for
what they have done to me--those two. Hurry, friend, as I do."
Before I could say another word or strive to detain him, he turned
and ran off along a narrow courtway which at this point branched from
the street.
I stood for a moment, nonplussed, staring after him. By good fortune
I had learned more in ten minutes than by the exercise of all my
ingenuity and the resources of the Service I could have learned in
ten months! _Par al barbe du prophete_ the Kismet which dogs the
footsteps of malefactors assisted me!
Recollecting the advice of Jean Sach, I set off at a brisk pace along
the street, which was dark and deserted and which passed through a
district marked red on the Paris crimes-map.
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