Javert's mouth fell slightly open.

Vidocq watched his new agent with barely concealed amusement. Certainly it was unfair to put a prison guard through a practicum designed to test the ingenuity and dexterity of professional thieves, but the Surete tradition called for it. It's not as if any of them actually ever managed it - stealing a watch from under someone's nose was nothing like stealing it from their vest pocket - but it was always such a riot to watch them try!

Several seconds passed in strained silence.

"Well?" repeated Vidocq.

"W-what?" finally slurred Javert.

"Go on," nodded Vidocq. "Here's a watch: steal it. You said you could do it on demand."

Javert looked at the watch, then at his would-be employer, then back at the watch. Within a second, all playfulness was gone from his face, leaving him looking like a stone idol of some ancient pagan deity whose duties and pleasures included abundant smiting. His large mobile mouth solidified into a thin line; his pupils narrowed to black pinpoints; two small angry folds materialized between his eyebrows.

"I had said no such thing," said Javert in a low even voice. "I am no thief. You asked me whether I could pretend to be one. I said that I could. But there was no talk of actually stealing anything."

"How do you intend to convince thieves that you are one of them if you can't actually pull a job? Don't you think they'll guess to put you to the test?" asked Vidocq sarcastically.

Javert's head jerked to the side as if he were slapped. Then, as if awakening from a deep trance, he inhaled an entire chestful of air and breathed out a single prolonged groan:

"Gawd, I can't believe myself." He began rising from the floor, looking somewhat like a cobra emerging from the snake-charmer's basket. "I am such a dolt."

"What do you mean?" asked Vidocq, watching the lean figure of his new agent unfold to its full impressive height.

"Oh, I confess, I was almost hooked," continued Javert as though he heard nothing. "Good show, very well played. The talk of correct positioning was especially convincing."

He ambled up to the table and lowered his eyes to the watch.

"A pretty bauble," he remarked indifferently. "This is real gold, no? Where'd you get it?"

"It was a present from a friend."

Javert coughed out a shallow laugh and then continued coughing into his fist. "Come, come, tell me the truth. Who'd you lift it from? Must've been one rich dab."

Vidocq knit his brows in vexation.

"It's not stolen," he protested. "It's my watch. I've had it for years. Look, it's got my initials on it," he said, turning the watch over to show Javert the three gracefully interwoven letters engraved on its back.

Javert picked up the watch, twirled it a little in his hands and then carefully set it back onto the table.

"What of it? Anyone can shell out several francs for a monogram – it's no proof of rightful ownership."

He bent over the table and leaned onto his elbows to take a closer look.

"But I see that it's true what they say about you. You are very clever!" he breathed out in a low, purring voice, as he ran his fingers gingerly over the ornate mother-of-pearl inlay of the watch. "So this is how you recruit your thieves, hein? Are there many applicants?" Javert's long fingers began twirling the delicate chain into spirals.

"You misunderstand. I..."

All of a sudden Javert raised his right hand and clapped it rudely over Vidocq's mouth.

"Shut up, thief," he said with bland indifference. "The last thing I want to hear is silly excuses. I know very well you won't confess to anything. I was just making conversation."

You idiot, chided himself Vidocq as he exhaled shallow breaths into Javert's enormous warm palm. What did you think was going to happen? He's a prison guard, for Heavens' sake, not one of your two-bit pickpockets. How did you expect him to react? "Heya, bub, welcome to the club. Prove thy mettle, pinch some metal!" Shit.

Javert lowered his hand and went back to playing with the watch chain. "So, how many men do you have working for you now?" he asked distractedly. "Four? Six? Enough for you to clean up pretty good, I imagine. No shortage of crowds in Paris, each one well-stocked with rich idlers and provincial rubes. Very clever… very very clever. I'm impressed. This has to be the first time I hear of thieves organizing into a government subsidized workshop."

"Now listen here..." began Vidocq angrily but once again did not manage to complete his objection. All of a sudden, Javert grasped him firmly by the collar, jerked him out of the chair as if he weighed nothing (which was far from the truth) and pulled him in so close that their noses almost touched. Javert's yellowish eyeballs were bulging out of their orbits and appeared to be rotating in every direction at once. He looked so ferocious and so repulsive that Vidocq felt his neck-hair stand on end.

"No, you listen to me, you filthy cur!" snarled Javert, spraying Vidocq with tobacco-flavored spittle. "I don't know how you got past the Prefect with this scheme of yours, but I am heading right this instant to Rue de Jerusalem to see him personally, and I will set him straight on your real objectives. You and your pet robbers are all done for, you hear me! I will neither eat nor sleep until this nest of vipers is stomped out of existence and you yourself are sent back to the galleys, and not to a sanatorium like Toulon where any idiot can escape after a month's plotting, but straight to Rochefort, to sweat out for good all these airs you've been putting on!"

With that Javert dropped the stupefied detective back into his chair, crossed the room in two huge strides and marched out the door, slamming it so hard that several plaster chips fell from the ceiling.

Stunned by the violence of the explosion, Vidocq sat back and drew a deep ragged breath. Well, there goes the new kid, he thought bitterly. So much for cementing a connection with the municipals.

Furious, Vidocq loosened his cravat and undid his collar. As he deliberated whether to run straight to the Prefect's office with the bad news or wait until their regular daily appointment, his gaze fell upon the table.

The watch was gone.