"He's ill," he said. "Didn't you know?"

"Seriously?"

"Very, Iunderstand. "

Stroeve's facegrew white.

"Whydidn't he write and tell me? How stupid of me to quarrel with him. We must goto him at once. He can have no one to look after him. Where does he live?"

"I have noidea, " said the Frenchman.

We discoveredthat none of us knew how to find him. Stroeve grew more and more distressed.

"He mightdie, and not a soul would know anything about it. It's dreadful. I can't bearthe thought. We must find him at once. "

I tried to makeStroeve understand that it was absurd to hunt vaguely about Paris. We mustfirst think of some plan.

"Yes; butall this time he may be dying, and when we get there it may be too late to doanything. "

"Sit stilland let us think, " I said impatiently.

The onlyaddress I knew was the Hotel des Belges, but Strickland had long left that, andthey would have no recollection of him. With that queer idea of his to keep hiswhereabouts secret, it was unlikely that, on leaving, he had said where he wasgoing. Besides, it was more than five years ago. I felt pretty sure that he hadnot moved far. If he continued to frequent the same cafe as when he had stayedat the hotel, it was probably because it was the most convenient. Suddenly Iremembered that he had got his commission to paint a portrait through the bakerfrom whom he bought his bread, and it struck me that there one might find hisaddress. I called for a directory and looked out the bakers.

“他生病了，”他说，“你没有听说吗？”

“厉害吗？”

“我听说很厉害。”

施特略夫的脸色一下变白了。

“他为什么不写信告诉我？咳，我同他吵嘴做什么？咱们得马上去看看他。没有人照料他。他住在什么地方？”

“我说不清。”那个法国人说。

我们发现谁也不知道该到哪儿去找他。施特略夫越来越难过。

“说不定他已经死了，他的事没有一个人知道。太可怕了。我真是受不了。咱们一定得马上找到他。”

我想叫施特略夫明白，在茫茫大海似的巴黎找一个人是荒谬的。我们必须首先有一个计划。

“是的。但是也许就在我们想办法的时候，他正在咽气呢，等我们找到他的时候，一切就都太晚了。”

“先安安静静地坐一会，想想该怎么办，”我不耐烦地说。

我知道的唯一地址是比利时旅馆，但是思特里克兰德早已搬出那个地方了，那里的人肯定不会记得他了。他行踪诡秘，不愿意让别人知道自己的住址；在搬走的时候，多半没有留下地址。再说，这已是五年前的事了。但是我敢肯定他住的地方不会太远。既然他住在比利时旅馆的时候就到这家咖啡馆来，后来始终没有换地方，一定是因为这里对他很方便。突然我想起来，他经常去买面包的一家店铺曾经介绍他给人画过像，说不定那家面包店会知道他的住址。我叫人拿来一本电话簿，开始翻查这一带的面包店。