Page 150 - down-and-out-in-paris-and-london

After an hour a policeman came back with the tin of co-
caine and a note from the analyst. He was laughing.
‘This is not cocaine, MONSIEUR,’ he said.
‘What, not cocaine?’ said the Commissaire. ‘MAIS, AL-
ORS—what is it, then?’
‘It is face-powder.’
Roucolle and the Pole were released at once, entirely ex-
onerated but very angry. The Jew had double-crossed them.
Afterwards, when the excitement was over, it turned out
that he had played the same trick on two other people in
the quarter.
The Pole was glad enough to escape, even though he had
lost his four thousand francs, but poor old Roucolle was
utterly broken down. He took to his bed at once, and all
that day and half the night they could hear him thrashing
about, mumbling, and sometimes yelling out at the top of
his voice:
‘Six thousand francs! NOM DE JESUS-CHRIST! Six
thousand francs!’
Three days later he had some kind of stroke, and in a
fortnight he was dead—of a broken heart, Charlie said.

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