I kept him on bread
and water for a month in my strong room, and at first he demanded
absinthe with threats, then grovelled, begging and praying for it.
After that a period of depression and despair ensued, but finally his
naturally strong constitution conquered, and began to build itself up
again. I took him from his prison one midnight, and gave him a bed in
my Soho room, taking care in bringing him away that he would never
recognise the place where he had been incarcerated. In my dealings
with him I had always been that old man, Paul Ducharme. Next morning I
said to him:--'You spoke of Eugene Valmont. I have learned that he
lives in London, and I advise you to call upon him. Perhaps he can get
you something to do.'
Simard was overjoyed, and two hours later, as Eugene Valmont, I
received him in my flat, and made him my assistant on the spot. From
that time forward, Paul Ducharme, language teacher, disappeared from
the earth, and Simard abandoned his two A's--anarchy and absinthe.
3. _The Clue of the Silver Spoons_
When the card was brought in to me, I looked upon it with some
misgiving, for I scented a commercial transaction, and, although such
cases are lucrative enough, nevertheless I, Eugene Valmont, formerly
high in the service of the French Government, do not care to be
connected with them.
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