“The murder of the Rue Montorgueil—­that clerk who killed his sweetheart, a little brewery maid?”

“The very same.  Joseph was attracted by the cries, saw the murderer arrested, and after the police were gone stayed there in the street, talking and jabbering.  The Saturday before, Joseph had a game of billiards with the murderer.”

“With the murderer!”

“Oh! accidentally—­he knew him by sight, went to the same cafe, that’s all, and they had played at pool together, Joseph and the murderer—­a man named Nicot.  Joseph told this to the crowd, and you may well imagine how important that made him, when suddenly a little blond man seized him.  ’You know the murderer?’ ‘A little, not much; I played pool with him.’  ’And do you know the motive of the crime?’ ’It was love, Monsieur, love; Nicot had met a girl, named Eugenie—­’ ‘You knew the victim, too?’ ’Only by sight, she was there in the cafe the night we played.’  ’Very well; but don’t tell that to anybody; come, come, quick.’  He took possession of Joseph and made him get into a cab, which went rolling off at great speed down the Boulevard des Italiens.  Ten minutes after, Joseph found himself in a hall where there was a big table, around which five or six young men were writing.  ‘Here is a fine sensation,’ said the little blond on entering.  ’The best kind of a murder! a murder for love, in the Rue Montorgueil, and I have here the murderer’s most intimate friend.’  ‘No, not at all,’ cried Joseph, ‘I scarcely know him.’  ‘Be still,’ whispered the little blond to Joseph; then he continued, ’Yes, his most intimate friend.  They were brought up together, and a quarter of an hour before the crime was committed were playing billiards.  The murderer won, he was perfectly calm——­’ ‘That’s not it, it was last Saturday that I played with——­’ ’Be still, will you!  A quarter of an hour, it is more to the point.  Let’s go.  Come, come.’  He took Joseph into a small room where they were alone, and said to him:  ’That affair ought to make about a hundred lines—­you talk—­I’ll write—­there will be twenty francs for you.’  ‘Twenty francs!’ ‘Yes, and here they are in advance; but be quick, to business!’ Joseph told all he knew to the gentleman—­how an old and retired Colonel, who lived in the house where the murder was committed, was the first to hear the victim’s cries; but he was paralyzed in both limbs, this old Colonel, and could only ring for the servant, an old cuirassier, who arrested the assassin.  In short, with all the information concerning the game of billiards, Eugenie and the paralytic old Colonel, the man composed his little article, and sent Joseph away with twenty francs.  Do you think it ended there?”

“I don’t think anything—­I am amazed!  Little Joseph a reporter!”