Diamond Cut Diamond

[Translated from the French, for the Sunday Union, by Mrs. N. E. White.]

“Monsieur, there is a peasant in the office who says he would like to speak to you.”

“What does he want?”

“Ma foi! from his idiotic expression, I should judge that he does not know himself.”

“We shall soon find out. Let him come in.”

Such was the order given by the celebrated Vidocq, Commander-in-Chief of the Paris Police Brigade, under the Restoration, to the dingy-looking Cerberus who guarded the entrance to his private office.
When the countryman found himself in the presence of the dread official he made an awkward obeisance, bending his body with well-feigned humility, and at the same time casting towards Vidocq the silly yet subtle glance peculiar to the cunning peasantry.

With one covert look Vidocq had taken the measurement of his man.

“Keep your fawning for those who are stupid enough to be taken in by it,” said he, brusquely. “You cannot gull me, you know. What is it you want?”

“Monsieur Vidocq, I would like to enter your service.”

“Bah! What can you do?”

“Why, I can work — at night, chiefly. You see, you are making such a clean sweep of suspicious characters that I find business too risky, and think it would be better to get on the safe side of the broom. As the vagabonds with whom I work (sharp rascals they are, too, I assure you) would never mistrust me on account of my stupid looks, and as I know all their haunts I could be of great assistance to you in running them down.”

Vidocq fixed a scrutinizing eye upon the candidate for detective glory, who, meanwhile, awaited a reply, twisting his old cap round and round as if unwinding a ball of yarn.

“I may, perhaps, find something for you,” answered Vidocq after a moment’s reflection. “But, in order that… Read More