his ball, so as to form the letters composing these two names:
HECTOR-JENNY.

These names glittering on the black background attracted the old
man's attention at once. This must have been M. Lecoq's reminder.
The ball was meant to recall to him perpetually the people of whom
he was in pursuit. Many names, doubtless, had in turn glittered on
that velvet, for it was much frayed and perforated. An unfinished
letter lay open upon the bureau.

M. Plantat leaned over to read it; but he took his trouble for
nothing, for it was written in cipher.

He had no sooner finished his inspection of the room than the noise
of a door opening made him turn round. He saw before him a man of
his own age, of respectable mien, and polite manners, a little bald,
with gold spectacles and a light-colored flannel dressing-gown.

M. Plantat bowed, saying:

"I am waiting here for Monsieur Lecoq."

The man in gold spectacles burst out laughing, and clapped his
hands with glee.

"What, dear sir," said he, "don't you know me? Look at me well
--it is I--Monsieur Lecoq!" And to convince him, he took off his
spectacles. Those might, indeed, be Lecoq's eyes, and that his
voice; M. Plantat was confounded.

"I never should have recognized you," said he.

"It's true, I have changed a little--but what would you have? It's
my trade."

And pushing a chair toward his visitor, he pursued:

"I have to beg a thousand pardons for the formalities you've had
to endure to get in here; it's a dire necessity, but one I can't
help. I have told you of the dangers to which I am exposed; they
pursue me to my very door. Why, last week a railway porter brought
a package here addressed to me. Janouille--that's my old woman
--suspected nothing, though she has a sharp nose, and told him to
come in. He held out the package, I went up to take it, when pif!
paf! off went two pistol-shots. The package was a revolver wrapped
up in oilcloth, and the porter was a convict escaped from Cayenne,
caught by me last year. Ah, I put him through for this though!"

He told this adventure carelessly, as if it were the most natural
thing in the world.

"But let's not starve ourselves to death," he continued, ringing
the bell. The old hag appeared, and he ordered her to bring on
breakfast forthwith, and above all, some good wine.

"You are observing my Janouille," remarked he, seeing that M.
Plantat looked curiously at the servant. "She's a pearl, my dear
friend, who watches ove