WHERE ARE YOUR LOCKS ?
55
Suddenly there was a crash. The front legs broke, and, forgetting each other, the rivals began to tear the walnut treasure to pieces. The Enghsh chintz was ripped open. The back of the chair flew off. The treasure-seekers tore the hning into shreds, and, scratching their hands on the springs, they plunged their fingers into the wool stuffing. Five minutes later the chair was stripped bare. The springs were rolling about on the pavement; the wind was blowing the wool stuffing in all directions ; the bent legs were lying in the gutter, but there were no diamonds.
- Well, have you found them ? ’ sneered Hippolyte.
Father Theodore, covered with tufts of wool, was puffing and blowing . He was silent. ‘ You’re a scoundrel! ’ shouted Hippolyte. ' I’ll beat your face in. Father Theodore ! ’ ‘ Your arms are too short ! ’ retorted the priest. ‘ Where can you go now with all that fluff sticking to you ? Look what a sight you are ! ’ ‘ That’s none of your business.’ ‘ Shame on you. Father Theodore. You’re a thief ! ’ ' I haven’t stolen anything from you.’ ‘ Then how did you find out about it ? You’ve used the sacrament of confession for your own ends. Very nice ! Very pretty, I must say ! ’ And with a snort of disgust Hippolyte brushed the fluff from his coat as he walked rapidly away from the priest. A few streets ahead he suddenly noticed his friend Bender, who was standing at a comer, having his boots cleaned. ‘ Well, how’s the House Department ? ’ said Bender in a business-like voice, and immediately added: ' Wait a bit. You’re far too excited. Cahn yourself.’ He paid the bootblack, took Hippolyte by the arm, and went down the street with him. Bender listened with the greatest interest to everything he had to tell him. ‘ Ah ! yes,’ said Bender. ‘ A small black beard ?
