Chapter 58 The Shrewdness of Master Scot Friel

From the city hall, he went to the house of a Flemish at the end of the town.The man's name was Scouffler, which in French was Scouffrel, and he had horses for hire.Cars can also be rented at will. The nearest way to the house of Nasgoflère was to take a deserted street, on which was the rectory of M. Madeleine's quarter.It is said that the abbe was a man of integrity and respect, and a good casuist.When M. Madeleine came to the door of the priest's house, there was only one passerby on the street. The passerby saw this thing: after the mayor passed the priest's house, he stopped, stood for a while, and then turned back. , went straight to the door of the priest's house, which was not too big or too small, with a hammer.He hastily lifted the hammer, and then he didn't move, then stopped suddenly, as if he was thinking about something, after a few seconds, he put down the hammer gently, so as not to let it make a sound, and walked on the same road, The shape was in a hurry, which was something he had never experienced before.

Monsieur Madeleine found Master Scouffrell, who was at home mending tools. "Master Scotfryer," he asked, "do you have a fine horse?" "Monsieur Mayor," said the Flemish, "all my horses are good. What do you mean by a good horse?" "I mean a horse that goes twenty leagues a day." "Damn!" said the Flemish, "twenty leagues!" "yes." "Do you want to get in the car?" "need." "After walking by, how much time does it have to rest?" "It should always be able to go the next day, if necessary."

"Take the original route?" "yes." "Damn! Damn! Twenty leagues?" M. Madeleine took from his pocket the sheet of paper on which he had drawn figures with a pencil.He showed it to the Flemish man.Those numbers are: "5, 6, 81/2". "You see," he said, "that's nineteen and one-half, which is twenty." "Monsieur Mayor," continued the Flemish, "I can do what you want. My little white horse, you should see him go sometimes. It's a little Boulogne." Beast. Fierce. At first, someone tried to use it as a horse. Yay! It got mad, and it threw everyone on the ground. Everyone thought it was a bad seed, and didn't know what to do. I took it Bought it. Tell it to pull a cart. Sir, that's what it wants to do. It's as gentle as a woman, and it walks like the wind. Ah! Really, it shouldn't be ridden on its back. It doesn't Willing to be a mount. Each has its own aspirations. Pulling a cart, yes, riding, no; we should believe what it has said to itself.”

"Can it run this distance?" "Your twenty leagues, trotted all the way, will be reached in less than eight hours. But I have a few conditions." "Please say." "First, you must let him breathe halfway for an hour; he has to eat, and when he eats, someone must watch over him, lest the servants in the inn steal his buckwheat; because I have taken care, The men at the inn have swallowed more buckwheat than the horses." "There must be guards." "Second... Is the car for Mr. Mayor himself?" "yes." "Can Mr. Mayor drive?"

"can." "Then, Monsieur Mayor must not take anyone with him, nor any luggage, lest the horse be troubled." "agree." "But since Mr. Mayor doesn't take anyone with him, he must take care of the buckwheat himself." "do as promised." "Thirty francs a day for me. The same goes for the days when you stay still. You can't miss a penny, and the mayor pays for the food for the cattle." M. Madeleine took three Napoleons from his purse and placed them on the table. "Pay here for two days." "Fourth, the caravan is too heavy for a horse to take such a distance. Mr. Mayor must agree to use my little cart on the road."

"I agree." "Light is light, but what about convertibles." "I do not care." "Has Mr. Mayor considered it? We are in winter." M. Madeleine was silent.The Flemish went on: "Has it ever occurred to Mr. Mayor that it is cold?" M. Madeleine remained silent.Scott Friel went on to say: "Do you think it might rain again?" M. Madeleine raised his head and said: "The cart and horse must be at my door tomorrow morning at half-past four." "Yes, Monsieur Mayor," replied Scotfryer, scratching a mark on the table-top again with his thumbnail, with that indifference that the Flemish are best at mixing with their cunning. "I just thought of one thing now. Mr. Mayor didn't tell me where I was going. Where is Mr. Mayor going?"

From the beginning of the conversation, he hadn't thought of anything else, but he didn't know why he didn't dare to ask before. "Does your horse have strong front legs?" said M. Madeleine. "Good power, Monsieur Mayor. You rein in it a little on the way down. Are there many hills where you go?" "Don't forget to be at my door at half-past four tomorrow morning," replied M. Madeleine. So he went out. The Flemish, as he himself put it some time later, was stunned "as stupid as a brute." Two or three minutes after the mayor left, the door opened again, and it was still the mayor who came in.

He still had that dazed and self-possessed air. "Master Scotfryer," said he, "what do you estimate the horse and the carriage which you have hired me, with the carriage and the horse?" "Horse and cart, Monsieur Mayor," said the Flemish, laughing. "Okay. How much is it worth?" "Does Monsieur Mayor want to buy my cart and horse?" "No. But I want you to have a surety in case of danger. When I get back, you'll just give me back the money. What do you think the cart and horses are worth?" "Five hundred francs, Monsieur Mayor."

"This is." M. Madeleine put a bill on the table and went away, this time without looking back. Scouffrel regretted not saying the thousand francs.In fact, the horse and the car were worth only three hundred francs altogether. The Flemish called his wife, and told her what had happened.Where the hell might Mr. Mayor go?They discussed. "He's going to Paris," said the woman. "I don't think so," said the husband.M. Madeleine had left the paper on which the figure was written on it on the fireplace.The Flemish studied the paper. "Five, six, eight and one-half? This should be the mileage of each station." He turned to his wife. "I have found it." "What?" "Five leagues from here to Estines, six leagues from Estines to Saint-Pol, eight and a half leagues from Saint-Pole to Arras. He goes to Arras." .”

By this time M. Madeleine had arrived at home. He had taken the longest road on his way back from Master Scouffrel's, as if the door of the rectory was a temptation for him to avoid.He went upstairs to his room and shut the door, which was the easiest thing to do, for he usually liked to go to bed early.M. Madeleine's only maid was the concierge of the factory, and when she saw his light go out at half-past eight that night, and the cashier returned to the factory, she told him the situation: "Is Mr. Mayor ill? I think he looks a little out of order." The cashier lived in the room just below M. Madeleine.He paid no attention to what the porter said, he slept in his bed, and fell asleep.

Towards midnight he awoke suddenly; in his sleep he heard a noise above his head.He listens.It seemed that someone was walking in the room above him, the sound of walking back and forth.He listened more carefully, and recognized the steps of M. Madeleine.He was surprised that M. Madeleine's room was usually silent until he got up.After a while, the cashier heard the sound of a cupboard being opened and closed again.Then someone moved a piece of furniture, and after a moment of silence, the footsteps began again.The teller sat up, wide awake, and opened his eyes to see, through his own glass window, a red light from another window on the opposite wall.From the direction of the light, it could only be seen that it could only be the window of M. Madeleine's bedroom.The reflection on the wall also quivered from time to time, as if it were a reflection of fire rather than light.The absence of the shadow of the pane showed that the window was wide open.It was a strange thing to have the windows open when it was cold.The teller fell asleep again.After an hour or two, he woke up again.The same slow and even sound of footsteps came and went over his head all the time. The reflection was always on the wall, but now it was duller and more steady, as if it were the reflection of a lamp or a candle.The window remained open. Here is what happened that night in M. Madeleine's room.