A minute later the faithful Contenson appeared in the presence of the two gnomes of the police, whom he revered as though they were two genii.

“What is up?” asked Corentin.

“A new thing!  I was coming out of 113, where I lost everything, when whom do I spy under the gallery?  Georges!  The man has been dismissed by the Baron, who suspects him of treachery.”

“That is the effect of a smile I gave him,” said Peyrade.

“Bah! when I think of all the mischief I have known caused by smiles!” said Corentin.

“To say nothing of that caused by a whip-lash,” said Peyrade, referring to the Simeuse case. (In Une Tenebreuse affaire.) “But come, Contenson, what is going on?”

“This is what is going on,” said Contenson.  “I made Georges blab by getting him to treat me to an endless series of liqueurs of every color—­I left him tipsy; I must be as full as a still myself!—­Our Baron has been to the Rue Taitbout, crammed with Pastilles du Serail.  There he found the fair one you know of; but—­a good joke!  The English beauty is not his fair unknown!—­And he has spent thirty thousand francs to bribe the lady’s-maid, a piece of folly!

“That creature thinks itself a great man because it does mean things with great capital.  Reverse the proposition, and you have the problem of which a man of genius is the solution.—­The Baron came home in a pitiable condition.  Next day Georges, to get his finger in the pie, said to his master: 

“’Why, Monsieur le Baron, do you employ such blackguards?  If you would only trust to me, I would find the unknown lady, for your description of her is enough.  I shall turn Paris upside down.’—­’Go ahead,’ says the Baron; ’I shall reward you handsomely!’—­Georges told me the whole story with the most absurd details.  But—­man is born to be rained upon!

“Next day the Baron received an anonymous letter something to this effect:  ’Monsieur de Nucingen is dying of love for an unknown lady; he has already spent a great deal utterly in vain; if he will repair at midnight to the end of the Neuilly Bridge, and get into the carriage behind which the chasseur he saw at Vincennes will be standing, allowing himself to be blindfolded, he will see the woman he loves.  As his wealth may lead him to suspect the intentions of persons who proceed in such a fashion, he may bring, as an escort, his faithful Georges.  And there will be nobody in the carriage.’—­Off the Baron goes, taking Georges with him, but telling him nothing.  They both submit to have their eyes bound up and their heads wrapped in veils; the Baron recognizes the man-servant.

“Two hours later, the carriage, going at the pace of Louis XVIII.—­God rest his soul!  He knew what was meant by the police, he did!—­pulled up in the middle of a wood.  The Baron had the handkerchief off, and saw, in a carriage standing still, his adored fair—­when, whiff! she vanished.  And the carriage, at the same lively pace, brought him back to the Neuilly Bridge, where he found his own.