Chapter 2 Chapter 2 Mr. Marquis

The white-haired man just walked unhurriedly, and he didn't care about everything around him.He stepped into an alley, turned a corner and came to another street, still humming a song. He stopped suddenly and listened nervously.He heard a sound, which was a bit like a tire blasting, and a bit like a gunshot.A rare smile appeared on the corner of his mouth, and then he continued walking.On the street corner he saw a lively scene: a policeman was recording something in a notebook.The white-haired man also leaned over and asked the same question as others. "What happened?" "Yes, sir. Two thugs attacked an American."

"Is the American injured?" "I can't tell." The person who answered the white-haired man smiled lightly. "The American had a pistol in his pocket. The Americans fired before the two thugs could do it. The two fellows frightened away. The police, as usual, were late." "I see." The white-haired man said.The matter seemed immaterial to him. He remained calm and continued on his way.After crossing the Seine, he stopped on a quiet road in the bustling city, next to a shop. This unremarkable store is unremarkable.Its owner, Dr. Papopolus, was such a famous antique dealer that he didn't need any advertisements to attract business.His business is also rarely done over the counter in the store.Papopolos had a splendid house on the Champs-Elysées, and it was much better to find him there at night than in his shop.But the gray-haired man also claimed that no one followed him.

The gatekeeper was relieved after hearing the white-haired man's words, and opened the door, but only a crack.It was a fat man with a gold ring on his hand who opened the door for the white-haired man. "Good evening!" said the white-haired man, "Is Master at home?" "Master is at home. But he doesn't see anyone at this time." The fat man said. "He ought to see me. Tell him it is the Marquis." The fat man opened the door a little wider and invited him in. White-haired man covering his face with his hands while talking.The fat man, who was the doctor's servant, came back and told him that Mr. Papopolos was pleased to receive him.At this time, the expression of the man who called himself the Marquis looked very relaxed.The servant noticed that the face of the visitor was covered with a black silk veil. He led the white-haired man to the front hall, opened the door, and said politely: Mr. Marquis is here.

Papopolus looked truly awe-inspiring.He has a broad forehead and a beautiful beard, as if he is an elder who presides over sacrifices in a patrilineal society. "Welcome, dear friend!" was his usual courtesy. "Excuse me!" said the visitor, "for disturbing you at this late hour." "Speak that way. There's no such thing as too late for business. You must have had a very interesting evening." "It's not like that for me personally." "Not personally, of course. Do you have anything to say to me?" He glanced at the visitor secretly, but his attitude towards the visitor was mysterious and gentle.

"There's nothing worth reporting to you. The attack failed, and I can't think of anything else to do." "As expected, it was completely resolved by force..." Papopolus made a gesture expressing his contempt for any kind of outright force.In fact, no matter whether it is dealing with Papopolus or doing business, tough measures cannot be adopted.He was a well-known figure in the European aristocratic class, and the kings called him "Shen Nong" in a friendly manner.His popularity was bound up with his prudence.His popularity enabled him to solve many particularly troublesome cases with ease.

"A direct attack may sometimes succeed, but the hope is very small." The antique dealer shook his head and said. The Marquis shrugged. "Just do it," he said. "Save time, and it costs next to nothing. I've got another plan—that will never fail." Papopolos nodded, lost in thought. "I have complete confidence in you. You have a very good reputation." Mr. Marquis smiled coquettishly. "Allow me to assure you," he murmured, "that I will live up to your confidence." "You have only this one and only deal now," said the antique dealer, his voice full of confidence.

"I will definitely finish." Monsieur the Marquis put on his overcoat. "I am in touch with you as usual, and I remind you: don't forget our agreement." "I never forget any of my agreements." The antique dealer showed dissatisfaction. The visitor smiled lightly, left the room, and left without saying goodbye. Papopolos reached out and stroked his beard, then turned to another door.When he opened the door, a young woman suddenly fell at the door.It seemed she was eavesdropping on their conversation.Papopolos looked surprised. "Zia, is that you?" He blurted out.

"I heard it all, without missing a word," she said. She was a pretty young girl with shining black eyes and a tall stature.She resembled Papopolus so much that no one doubted that she was not his daughter. "It's a pity," she seemed a little annoyed, "I can't listen and see through this keyhole." "This is indeed a headache." Father said solemnly. "He is Mr. Marquis?" Zia said slowly, "Is he wearing a veil all the time? Dad!" "yes." "It's about the gems, Dad, isn't it?" Zia asked. The antique dealer nodded.

"What do you think of him, boy." "Do you mean Monsieur the Marquis?" "of course!" "In my opinion," Zia said slowly, "it's hard to find a native Englishman who speaks French as well as he does." "Oh, you think so." He didn't say what he thought, but he gave his daughter a positive look. "Also, his head seems to be deformed." Zia said. "It's obvious," said my father, "very obvious. But it's always felt that way when someone puts on a mask." The father and daughter smiled knowingly.