Estermen stood quite close to the table. He was distinctly ill at ease.
"Herr Freudenberg," he said, "I have done my best. It was impossible for me to obtain an introduction to this customer."
"Impossible?" Herr Freudenberg repeated, his face suddenly becoming stony.
"Let me explain," Estermen continued hastily. "This customer arrived in Paris last night or early this morning. He was called upon at once by a lady who lives in the Avenue de St. Paul. She has told him a little story about me--I am sure of it. He has refused to make my acquaintance."
"What can one do?" he muttered. "The man is quick-tempered. He dined tonight in the country at the Maison Léon d'Or with madame. It was there that I sought an introduction with him. It was impossible for me to force myself."
"I know the hotel at which he is staying."
"Make it your business to find him," Herr Freudenberg ordered. "Bring him with you, if before one o'clock to the Abbaye Thelème; if afterwards, to the Rat Mort."
"Am I to mention the subject of the toys of Herr Freudenberg's manufacture?"
Herr Freudenberg tore a corner from the programme which lay on the table between them, and wrote a single word upon it.
"Study that at your leisure, my friend," he said. "Pay attention to the task I impose upon you. Nothing is more important in my visit to Paris than that I should make the acquaintance of this person. Much depends upon it. I rely upon you, Estermen."
Estermen thrust the morsel of paper into his waist-coat pocket. Then he leaned a little closer to this man who seemed to be his master.
"Herr Freudenberg," he began, "I spoke of a lady in the Avenue de St. Paul, the companion to-night of the person whose acquaintance you are anxious to make."
"What of her?" Herr Freudenberg asked calmly. "There are many ladies, without a doubt, who live in the Avenue de St. Paul."
"The name of this one," Estermen continued slowly, "is Madame Christophor."
Herr Freudenberg sat quite still in his place. His eyes seemed fixed upon a cluster of the roses which hung down from the other side of the sweet-smelling barrier by which they were surrounded. Yet something had gone out of his face, something fresh had arrived. The half contemptuous curl of the lips was finished. His mouth now was straight and hard, his eyes set, the deep lines upon his forehead and around his mouth were suddenly insistent. He sat so motionless that his face for a moment seemed as though it were fashioned in wax. Then his lips moved, he spoke in a whisper which was almost inaudible.