LITMIR.BIZ

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are a careful man. You met the Chourineur, then, at St. Ouen, for—"

      Rodolph, after a moment's hesitation, had the good luck to think of a story which would account for the want of address which the Chourineur had displayed, and said:

      "Why, this it is. The attempt I propose is a famous one, because the person in question is in the country; all my fear was that he should return to Paris. To make sure, I went to Pierrefitte, where his country-house is situated, and there I learned that he would not be back again until the day after to-morrow."

      "Well, but to return to my question; why did you appoint to meet the Chourineur at St. Ouen?"

      "Why, you are not so bright as I took you for. How far is it from Pierrefitte to St. Ouen?"

      "About a league."

      "And from St. Ouen to Paris?"

      "As much."

      "Well, if I had not found any one at Pierrefitte—that is, if there had been an empty house there—why, there also would have been a good job; not so good as in Paris, but still well worth having. I went back to the Chourineur, who was waiting for me at St. Ouen. We should have returned then to Pierrefitte, by a cross-path which I know, and—"

      "I understand. If, on the contrary, the job was to be done in Paris?"

      "We should have gained the Barrier de l'Étoile by the road of the Rivolte, and thence to the Allée des Veuves—"

      "Is but a step; that is plain enough. At St. Ouen you were well placed for either operation—that was clear; and now I can understand why the Chourineur was at St. Ouen. So the house in the Allée des Veuves will be uninhabited until the day after to-morrow?"

      "Uninhabited, except the porter."

      "I see. And is it a profitable job?"

      "Sixty thousand francs in gold in the proprietor's cabinet."

      "And you know all the ways?"

      "Perfectly."

      "Silence, here we are; not a word before the vulgar. I do not know if you feel as I do, but the morning air has given me an appetite."

      The Chouette was awaiting them at the door.

      "This way; this way," she said. "I have ordered our breakfast."

      Rodolph wished the brigand to pass in first, for certain reasons; but the Schoolmaster insisted on showing so much politeness, that Rodolph entered before him. Before he sat down, the Schoolmaster tapped lightly against each of the divisions of the wainscot, that he might ascertain their thickness and power of transmitting sounds.

      "We need not be afraid to speak out," said he; "the division is not thin. We shall have our breakfast soon, and shall not be disturbed in our conversation."

      A waiter brought in the breakfast, and before he shut the door Rodolph saw the charcoal-man, Murphy, seated with great composure at a table in a room close at hand.

      The room in which the scene took place that we are describing was long and narrow, lighted by one window, which looked into the street, and was opposite to the door. The Chouette turned her back to this window, whilst the Schoolmaster was at one side of the table, and Rodolph on the other.

      When the servant left the room, the brigand got up, took his plate, and seated himself beside Rodolph and between him and the door.

      "We can talk better," he said, "and need not talk so loud."

      "And then you can prevent me from going out," replied Rodolph, calmly.

      The Schoolmaster gave a nod in the affirmative, and then, half drawing out of the pocket of his frock coat a stiletto, round and as thick as a goose's quill, with a handle of wood which disappeared in the grasp of his hairy fingers, said:

      "You see that?"

      "I do."

      "Advice to amateurs!" And bringing his shaggy brows together, by a frown which made his wide and flat forehead closely resemble a tiger's, he made a significant gesture.

      "And you may believe me," added the Chouette, "I have made the tool sharp."

      Rodolph, with perfect coolness, put his hand under his blouse, and took out a double-barrelled pistol, which he showed to the Schoolmaster, and then put into his pocket.

      "All right; and now we understand each other; but do not misunderstand me, I am only alluding to an impossibility. If they try to arrest me, and you have laid any trap for me, I will make 'cold meat' of you."

      And he gave a fierce look at Rodolph.

      "And I will spring upon him and help you, fourline," cried the Chouette.

      Rodolph made no reply, but shrugged his shoulders, and, pouring out a glass of wine, tossed it off. His coolness deceived the Schoolmaster.

      "I only put you on your guard."

      "Well, then, put up your 'larding-pin' into your pocket; you have no chicken to lard now. I am an old cock, and know my game as well as most," said Rodolph. "But, to our business."

      "Yes, let us talk of business; but do not speak against my 'larding-pin;' it makes no noise, and does not disturb anybody."

      "And does its work as should be; doesn't it, fourline?" added the old beldam.

      "By the way," said Rodolph to the Chouette, "do you really know the Goualeuse's parents?"

      "My man has in his pocket two letters about it, but she shall never see them—the little slut! I would rather tear her eyes out with my own hands. Oh, when I meet her again at the tapis-franc, won't I pay her off—"

      "There, that'll do, Finette; we have other things to talk of, and so leave off your gossip."

      "May we 'patter' before the 'mot?'" asked Rodolph.

      "Most decidedly! She's true as steel, and is worth her weight in gold to watch for us, to get information or impressions of keys, to conceal stolen goods or sell them—nothing comes amiss to her. She is a first-rate manager. Good Finette!" added the robber, extending his hand to the horrid hag. "You can have no idea of the services she has done me. Take off your shawl, Finette, or you'll be cold when you go out; put it on the chair with your basket."

      The Chouette took off her shawl.

      In spite of his presence of mind, and the command which he had over himself, Rodolph could not quite conceal his surprise when he saw suspended by a ring of silver, from a thick chain of metal which hung round the old creature's neck, a small Saint Esprit in lapis lazuli, precisely resembling that which the son of Madame Georges had round his neck when he was carried off.

      At this discovery, a sudden idea flashed across the mind of Rodolph. According to the Chourineur's statement, the Schoolmaster had escaped from the Bagne six months ago, and had since defied all search after him by disfiguring himself as he had now; and six months ago the husband of Madame Georges had disappeared from the Bagne. Rodolph surmised that, very possibly, the Schoolmaster was the husband of that unhappy lady. If this were so, he knew the fate of the son she lamented—he possessed, too, some papers relative to the birth of the Goualeuse. Rodolph had, then, fresh motives for persevering in his projects, and, fortunately, his absence of mind was not observed by the Schoolmaster, who was busy helping the Chouette.

      "Morbleu! What a pretty chain you have!" said Rodolph to the one-eyed woman.

      "Pretty, and not dear," answered the old creature, laughing. "It is only a sham till my man can afford to give me a real one."

      "That will depend on this gentleman, Finette. If our job comes off well, why then—"

      "It is astonishing how well it is imitated," continued Rodolph. "And what is that little blue thing at the end?"

      "It is a present from my man, which I shall wear until he gives me a 'ticker.' Isn't it, fourline?"

      Rodolph's suspicions were thus half confirmed,

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