One after one we came opposite The Fencer,
held up our arms, had our pockets run through and our clothing felt over
from head to heel, and were exonerated. When Caesar came to Jean Caesar's
eyes lighted, and Caesar's hitherto perfunctory proddings and pokings
became inspired and methodical. Twice he went over Jean's entire body,
while Jean, his arms raised in a bored gesture, his face completely
expressionless, suffered loftily the examination of his person. A third
time the desperate Fencer tried; his hands, starting at Jean's neck,
reached the calf of his leg--and stopped. The hands rolled up Jean's
right trouser-leg to the knee. They rolled up the underwear on his
leg--and there, placed perfectly flat to the skin, appeared the missing
serviette. As The Fencer seized it, Jean laughed--the utter laughter of
old days--and the onlookers cackled uproariously, while, with a broad
smile, the Fencer proclaimed: "I thought I knew where I should find it."
And he added, more pleased with himself than anyone had ever seen him:
"_Maintenant, vous pouvez tous montez a la chambre._" We mounted, happy
to get back to bed; but none so happy as Jean le Negre. It was not that
the _cabinot_ threat had failed to materialize--at any minute a _planton_
might call Jean to his punishment: indeed this was what everyone
expected.
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