But Perine screamed and Plon waved him
energetically back. Finding his prisoner cowed he launched some strong
invectives at him.
"You're a thief and a cut-throat, that's what you are!" he said,
shivering. "Keep off, keep off! You could no more stand in Jean Didier's
shoes than you could in mine, for he was a decent, peaceable young
fellow, and more than that, he was shot. So you've got hold of the wrong
story here, Monsieur Blacklegs, and one that won't serve you much in the
_violon_."
"It's true, I give you my word," said Jean.
"They did their best to shoot me, but I was only wounded. Marie got me
up here, and here I have been ever since."
"Was there ever such a cool hand!" cried Plon wrathfully. "And you
absolutely think to persuade me of this when not a soul comes in and out
of this house without my knowing. A pretty tale!"
Jean muttered "Blockhead!" under his breath. Aloud he said, "But--M.
Plon--am I not here now?"
"No, you are not!" Plon retorted,--"or if you are, you shall soon be out
of it again. Police! Help, help!"
"If only Marie were here!" groaned Jean. "M. Plon, I implore you to have
pity! wait until my wife arrives; you will believe her if you can't
believe your own eyes. Lock me into the room, do whatever you like--only
wait!"
If M. Plon had indeed had sufficient calmness to contemplate the figure
before him, it is probable that in spite of alteration he would have
found something to recognise.
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