This was the expert to whom Remonencq with much mystery conducted La Cibot.  Remonencq always asked advice of Elie Magus when he met him in the streets; and more than once Magus had lent him money through Abramko, knowing Remonencq’s honesty.  The Chaussee des Minimes is close to the Rue de Normandie, and the two fellow-conspirators reached the house in ten minutes.

“You will see the richest dealer in curiosities, the greatest connoisseur in Paris,” Remonencq had said.  And Mme. Cibot, therefore, was struck dumb with amazement to be confronted with a little old man in a great-coat too shabby for Cibot to mend, standing watching a painter at work upon an old picture in the chilly room on the vast ground floor.  The old man’s eyes, full of cold feline malignance, were turned upon her, and La Cibot shivered.

“What do you want, Remonencq?” asked this person.

“It is a question of valuing some pictures; there is nobody but you in Paris who can tell a poor tinker-fellow like me how much he may give when he has not thousands to spend, like you.”

“Where is it?”

“Here is the portress of the house where the gentleman lives; she does for him, and I have arranged with her—­”

“Who is the owner?”

“M.  Pons!” put in La Cibot.

“Don’t know the name,” said Magus, with an innocent air, bringing down his foot very gently upon his artist’s toes.

Moret the painter, knowing the value of Pons’ collection, had looked up suddenly at the name.  It was a move too hazardous to try with any one but Remonencq and La Cibot, but the Jew had taken the woman’s measure at sight, and his eye was as accurate as a jeweler’s scales.  It was impossible that either of the couple should know how often Magus and old Pons had matched their claws.  And, in truth, both rabid amateurs were jealous of each other.  The old Jew had never hoped for a sight of a seraglio so carefully guarded; it seemed to him that his head was swimming.  Pons’ collection was the one private collection in Paris which could vie with his own.  Pons’ idea had occurred to Magus twenty years later; but as a dealer-amateur the door of Pons’ museum had been closed to him, as for Dusommerard.  Pons and Magus had at heart the same jealousy.  Neither of them cared about the kind of celebrity dear to the ordinary collector.  And now for Elie Magus came his chance to see the poor musician’s treasures!  An amateur of beauty hiding in a boudoir or a stolen glance at a mistress concealed from him by his friend might feel as Elie Magus felt at that moment.

La Cibot was impressed by Remonencq’s respect for this singular person; real power, moreover, even when it cannot be explained, is always felt; the portress was supple and obedient, she dropped the autocratic tone which she was wont to use in her lodge and with the tenants, accepted Magus’ conditions, and agreed to admit him into Pons’ museum that very day.