Having received Sophie's promise, Lionel finally relaxed.
The "Colonial Communications Office," as the company's internal communication department, although it only handled miscellaneous tasks like delivering letters and messages, undoubtedly possessed more detailed personnel information than other departments.
Only the human resources or secretarial departments could probably have more detailed information—and people there likely wouldn't have the patience to listen to him elaborate on his family history.
The office closed at 7 PM, and it was only 3 PM.
With a full four hours remaining, Lionel decided to go and investigate the truth about the "Panama Interoceanic Canal Global Company" again.
Without delay, he spent 5 sous on a public carriage to the French Overseas Chamber of Commerce in the 8th arrondissement and was stunned the moment he alighted—
A long queue snaked from the entrance of the building, its end even stretching to another street; despite the biting wind, the people in line were cheerful, chatting amongst themselves.
Lionel did not join the queue; instead, he walked around it directly to the entrance, only then discovering the reason:
Everyone was waiting to subscribe to the Panama Canal bonds issued by the "Panama Interoceanic Canal Global Company," with an annual interest rate of 6%, first come, first served!
A middle-aged man, who had just secured his purchase, saw Lionel peeking around and kindly advised him:
"Young man, it's too late to queue now.
If you rush to Baring Bank or Société Générale, you might still be able to buy some."
Lionel followed up:
"Is everyone so confident about digging the Panama Canal?"
Hearing this, the middle-aged man's eyes lit up:
"Don't you know who is presiding over this great project?"
Lionel shook his head, and the middle-aged man was very pleased with his reaction:
"It's Monsieur Ferdinand de Lesseps, full of wisdom and courage! He was the one who oversaw the construction of the Suez Canal back then, and secured a 99-year operating right for France.
With him at the helm, this canal is sure to become another source of pride for France!"
The louder the middle-aged man spoke, the more the surrounding people, hearing him, spontaneously cheered:
"Long live France! Long live France!"
Driven by the slogans, the entire queue became fervent, many people directly pulling out handfuls of cash from their pockets, waving them overhead, urging those ahead to complete their procedures faster.
Although Lionel wasn't entirely clear about the historical detail of whether the French ultimately succeeded in digging the Panama Canal, as an excellent and widely read humanities student, he knew that almost all investment frenzies in French history had not ended well...
He asked with some concern:
"How long will it take then?"
The middle-aged man replied with full confidence:
"Monsieur Ferdinand was able to excavate a 190-kilometer canal in a hot, dry, and uninhabited desert like Egypt, and the Panama Canal is said to be only a little over 80 kilometers long!
The Suez Canal took 10 years; the Panama Canal, well, optimistically it will open in 5 years, and no later than 7 years!
By then, francs, pounds, dollars... will flow into the pockets of us investors like the waters of the canal!"
His words sparked another round of cheers.
Lionel:
"..."
This time, there was no need to go inside to investigate the facts.
It seemed that "digging the Panama Canal" and "Panama Canal bonds" were not scams, and the "Panama Interoceanic Canal Global Company" was not a shell company.
Ferdinand de Lesseps was indeed a famous industrialist, a nobleman, and had served as a diplomat; he was no swindler.
This was the cleverness of the swindler "Emile"—most of the information was true and easy to verify, but he only lied about the most crucial and difficult-to-verify parts...
Now, all he could do was see if Sophie could bring him some surprises.
Filled with worry, Lionel walked all the way from the 8th arrondissement back to the 2nd arrondissement (the two districts almost adjoined), not even stopping to look closely as he passed the Champs-Élysées.
It took him a full hour to reach the agreed-upon "Seine Sunset" café, where he ordered a black coffee and began to drink it moodily, picking up a copy of Le Petit Journal to browse.
Before long, a burst of laughter erupted from a neighboring table; a rather gentlemanly customer sprayed coffee directly onto the newspaper on his table, then covered his eyes with one hand, trying his best to suppress his somewhat undignified laughter.
The café waiter, however, seemed accustomed to it, stepping forward to clean the customer's table and replace his coffee.
As he passed Lionel, he just muttered a complaint:
"Another one, that damned Le Charivari..."
The speaker was unintentional, but the listener paid heed; Lionel called out to him:
"Could you get me a copy of today's Le Charivari?"
The waiter gestured with his lips towards the customer who had just sprayed coffee:
"The last clean copy of Le Charivari is on that gentleman's table."
Lionel smiled:
"Oh?"
Cafés subscribed to multiple copies of each newspaper so guests could pass the time.
The waiter leaned in and whispered an explanation:
"Today's Le Charivari published a few new jokes, and several customers who read them sprayed coffee onto the newspaper..."
Lionel's smile became brighter:
"Oh? What jokes?"
The waiter gave an ambiguous smile:
"I think you'd best see for yourself...
I swear, they're the most subtle, most wicked, but also the funniest jokes I've ever read..."
Lionel nodded, indicating he understood.
It seemed the effect of those three short stories was quite good; he was confident that the owner of Le Charivari would accept his offer! After all, when it came to jokes, Europe, from ancient times to the modern era, could not compare with China in terms of the richness of types, the variability of techniques, or the subtlety of language.
He chose to rewrite jokes from the "Monk and Taoist" section of the Xiaolin Guangji (Extensive Records of Jokes) not only to deliberately break through the most taboo and deeply secretive layer of French religious culture, but also to test the bottom line of these tabloids.
If even this subject matter could be published, then he could proceed without any inhibitions and really show his talent.
What he didn't know, in fact, was that this bottom line was one he had created with his own hands...
Of course, the true identity of "An Honest Parisian" must never be known—after all, if he were to make a formal debut in French literary circles, it absolutely could not be as a writer of risqué jokes.
Some things, after his acquaintance with Maupassant that day, began to grow and spread like weeds from the depths of his heart, uncontrollably...
This was also why he chose the "anonymous poste restante" service, which required monthly renewals.
However, the most important matter at hand was still to resolve the crisis of the Sorel family, far away in the Alps.
He feared that if he delayed even a day, his father might hand over all the dowry and savings to that man of suspicious origin.
After waiting for almost another hour, Sophie Deneuve finally appeared at the café entrance, wearing a thick overcoat, yet still looking slender.
And only then did Lionel notice how tall she was, almost 170 centimeters, which was quite rare among women of that era.
He raised his hand and said,
"Over here!"
Sophie looked over, a smile appearing on her face, and quickly navigated through the tables and chairs to sit opposite Lionel.
Lionel smiled and did not immediately press Sophie for the results of her inquiry, but instead said:
"You haven't had dinner yet, have you? May I have the pleasure of inviting you to dine with me?"
Sophie's face flushed, like pomegranate juice spreading on milk.
(End of this chapter)
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