They were fortunate enough to secure a 1st class carriage to themselves.
But old Tabaret was no longer disposed for conversation. He reflected,
he sought, he combined; and in his face might easily be read the working
of his thoughts. M. Daburon watched him curiously and felt singularly
attracted by this eccentric old man, whose very original taste had led
him to devote his services to the secret police of the Rue de Jerusalem.
"M Tabaret," he suddenly asked, "have you been long associated with the
police?"
"Nine years, M. Daburon, more than nine years; and permit me to confess
I am a little surprised that you have never before heard of me."
"I certainly knew you by reputation," answered M. Daburon; "but your
name did not occur to me, and it was only in consequence of hearing you
praised that I had the excellent idea of asking your assistance.
But what, I should like to know, is your reason for adopting this
employment?"
"Sorrow, sir, loneliness, weariness. Ah! I have not always been happy!"
"I have been told, though, that you are rich."
The old fellow heaved a deep sigh, which revealed the most cruel
deceptions. "I am well off, sir," he replied; "but I have not always
been so.
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