confessed to lying? Above all else, what intrigued Victor the most was Kenjiâs behaviour. Why was he keeping his supposed goddaughter locked away in Saint-Mandé?
Â
Back at the bookshop, Victor rearranged the chairs left out by the Friends of Old Paris, who had gone with Kenji to whet their whistles at the Temps Perdu. He was obliged to wait until Joseph had concluded the sale of ten duodecimo volumes of Boccaceâs Fables , published in London in 1779, before he could satisfy his curiosity.
âWhat were the exact words of the man who came here yesterday to return the famous shoe?â
âDo you mean that strange fellow? Well, youâre in luck, Boss, because after heâd gone I jotted down a few things in my notebook. Here we are: his dog had stolen a hunk of meat from some lions â in my opinion lions mean a circus. I asked where he lived and he said Ruelle des Culettes, round the corner from Rue Croule-something.â
âBrilliant! Clear as day! Total gibberish!â
âWell, itâs not my fault if Monsieur Mori interrupted me to get him a cab and I lost the thread! As for the manâs identity, I am certain his name is Grégoire Mercier and he was well known around Rue Croule-something.â
âThe dog had stolen a hunk of meat from some lionsâ¦â echoed Victor, recalling Irisâs words: âYou can hear the wolves howling from his bedroom.â Could the two things be connected?
âDid you discover anything about the shoe, Boss?â
âNothing of any importance,â Victor called down from the stairs.
âThatâs right, donât be grateful. Just squeeze the facts out of me so you can play the sleuth! Fine then, you asked for it, from now on my lips are sealed!â muttered Jojo, and then broke his word the moment Victor called out to him.
âYou havenât by any chance seen the Paris street directory?â
âItâs upstairs on Monsieur Moriâs desk!â
Victor easily found Rue Croulebarbe, Ruelle des Reculettes, in the Bièvre district, the 13th arrondissement, and came back down, whistling jauntily. He ignored the sullen look on Josephâs face and enquired kindly how he was getting along with his book, Love and Blood.
âI already told you, but I guess Iâll have to say it again because you clearly werenât listening: I have abandoned the project.â
âThat seems a shame. You should have seen it through.â
âThatâs right, tell me Iâm lazy! Well, I chose to give it up and I have my reasons, and I donât see why I should share them with you since youâre not in the habit of sharing!â
Victor was about to ask whether his lack of inspiration was related to Valentine de Salignacâs marriage when Kenji walked into the bookshop. He nodded briefly at Victor, reminded Joseph he had a delivery to make and went to sit at his desk, which was stacked with index cards ready for making up a new catalogue. Victor lit a cigar and exhaled a puff of bluish smoke. What was in Josephâs notes? he asked himself Ah, yes! A dog that stole meat from some lions; lions and howling wolvesâ¦
âWhere might one find lions and wolves in Paris?â
âIn the Botanical Gardens,â replied Kenji, burying his nose in his handkerchief. âYou arenât considering breeding them, are you? If you show the same enthusiasm as you do for running a bookshop, the enterprise is doomed to failure. Would you mind smoking that outside?â
âWhat have I done to make you and Joseph gripe at me so? Well, if thatâs the way you want it, I shall leave you in peace.â
Â
Victor buttoned up his frock coat to protect his Photo-Secret from the spitting rain. He had brought it with him to give the impression of self-assurance. He passed Hôtel de la Reine-Blanche and went down a flight of dilapidated steps. At the beginning of Rue Gobelins he paused,
Â
Back at the bookshop, Victor rearranged the chairs left out by the Friends of Old Paris, who had gone with Kenji to whet their whistles at the Temps Perdu. He was obliged to wait until Joseph had concluded the sale of ten duodecimo volumes of Boccaceâs Fables , published in London in 1779, before he could satisfy his curiosity.
âWhat were the exact words of the man who came here yesterday to return the famous shoe?â
âDo you mean that strange fellow? Well, youâre in luck, Boss, because after heâd gone I jotted down a few things in my notebook. Here we are: his dog had stolen a hunk of meat from some lions â in my opinion lions mean a circus. I asked where he lived and he said Ruelle des Culettes, round the corner from Rue Croule-something.â
âBrilliant! Clear as day! Total gibberish!â
âWell, itâs not my fault if Monsieur Mori interrupted me to get him a cab and I lost the thread! As for the manâs identity, I am certain his name is Grégoire Mercier and he was well known around Rue Croule-something.â
âThe dog had stolen a hunk of meat from some lionsâ¦â echoed Victor, recalling Irisâs words: âYou can hear the wolves howling from his bedroom.â Could the two things be connected?
âDid you discover anything about the shoe, Boss?â
âNothing of any importance,â Victor called down from the stairs.
âThatâs right, donât be grateful. Just squeeze the facts out of me so you can play the sleuth! Fine then, you asked for it, from now on my lips are sealed!â muttered Jojo, and then broke his word the moment Victor called out to him.
âYou havenât by any chance seen the Paris street directory?â
âItâs upstairs on Monsieur Moriâs desk!â
Victor easily found Rue Croulebarbe, Ruelle des Reculettes, in the Bièvre district, the 13th arrondissement, and came back down, whistling jauntily. He ignored the sullen look on Josephâs face and enquired kindly how he was getting along with his book, Love and Blood.
âI already told you, but I guess Iâll have to say it again because you clearly werenât listening: I have abandoned the project.â
âThat seems a shame. You should have seen it through.â
âThatâs right, tell me Iâm lazy! Well, I chose to give it up and I have my reasons, and I donât see why I should share them with you since youâre not in the habit of sharing!â
Victor was about to ask whether his lack of inspiration was related to Valentine de Salignacâs marriage when Kenji walked into the bookshop. He nodded briefly at Victor, reminded Joseph he had a delivery to make and went to sit at his desk, which was stacked with index cards ready for making up a new catalogue. Victor lit a cigar and exhaled a puff of bluish smoke. What was in Josephâs notes? he asked himself Ah, yes! A dog that stole meat from some lions; lions and howling wolvesâ¦
âWhere might one find lions and wolves in Paris?â
âIn the Botanical Gardens,â replied Kenji, burying his nose in his handkerchief. âYou arenât considering breeding them, are you? If you show the same enthusiasm as you do for running a bookshop, the enterprise is doomed to failure. Would you mind smoking that outside?â
âWhat have I done to make you and Joseph gripe at me so? Well, if thatâs the way you want it, I shall leave you in peace.â
Â
Victor buttoned up his frock coat to protect his Photo-Secret from the spitting rain. He had brought it with him to give the impression of self-assurance. He passed Hôtel de la Reine-Blanche and went down a flight of dilapidated steps. At the beginning of Rue Gobelins he paused,
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