LITMIR.BIZ

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able to arrive here in time?" said Rodolph to the Chourineur.

      "Why, if you please, my lor—no, sir—highness—Rodolph—I had better begin by the beginning—"

      "Quite right. I am listening—go on. But mind, you are only to call me M. Rodolph."

      "Very well. You know that last night you told me, after you returned from the country, where you had gone with poor Goualeuse, 'Try and find the Schoolmaster in the Cité; tell him you know of a capital "put-up," that you have refused to join it, but that if he will take your place he has only to be to-morrow (that's to-day) at the barrier of Bercy, at the Panier-Fleuri, and there he will see the man who has "made the plant" (qui a nourri le poupard).'"

      "Well."

"On leaving you, I pushed on briskly for the Cité. I goes to the ogress's—no Schoolmaster; then to the Rue Saint Eloi; on to the Rue aux Fêves; then to the Rue de la Vieille Draperie—couldn't find my man. At last I stumbled upon him and that old devil's kin, Chouette, in the front of Notre Dame, at the shop of a tailor, who is a 'fence'[8] and thief; they were 'sporting the blunt' which they had prigged from the tall gentleman in black, who wanted to do something to you; they bought themselves some toggery. The Chouette bargained for a red shawl—an old monster! I told my tale to the Schoolmaster and he snapped at it, and said he would be at the rendezvous accordingly. So far so good. This morning, according to your orders, I ran here to bring you the answer. You said to me, 'My lad, return to-morrow before daybreak; you must pass the day in the house, and in the evening you will see something which will be worth seeing.' You did not let out more than that, but I was 'fly,' and said to myself, 'This is a "dodge" to catch the Schoolmaster to-morrow, by laying a right bait for him. He is a——scoundrel; he murdered the cattle-dealer, and, as they say, another person besides, in the Rue du Roule. I see all about it—'"

      "My mistake was not to have told you all, my good fellow; then this horrible result would not have occurred."

      "That was your affair, M. Rodolph; all that concerned me was to serve you; for, truth to say, I don't know how or why, but, as I have told you before, I feel as if I were your bulldog. But that's enough. I said, then, 'M. Rodolph pays me for my time, so my time is his, and I will employ it for him.' Then an idea strikes me: the Schoolmaster is cunning, he may suspect a trap. M. Rodolph will propose to him the job for to-morrow, it is true, but the 'downy cove' is likely enough to come to-day and lurk about, and reconnoitre the ground, and if he is suspicious of M. Rodolph he will bring some other 'cracksman' (robber) with him, and do the trick on his own account. To prevent this, I said to myself, 'I must go and plant myself somewhere where I may get a view of the walls, the garden-gate—there is no other entrance. If I find a snug corner, as it rains, I will remain there all day, perhaps all night, and to-morrow morning I shall be all right and ready to go to M. Rodolph's.' So I goes to the Allée des Veuves to place myself, and what should I see but a small tavern, not ten paces from your door! I entered and took my seat near the window, in a room on the ground floor. I called for a quart of drink and a quart of nuts, saying I expected some friends—a humpbacked man and a tall woman. I chose them because it would appear more natural. I was very comfortably seated, and kept my eye on the door. It rained cats and dogs; no one passed; night came on—"

      "But," interrupted Rodolph, "why did you not go at once to my house?"

      "You told me to come the next day morning, M. Rodolph, and I didn't dare return there sooner; I should have looked like an intruder—a sneak (brosseur), as the troopers call it. You understand? Well, there I was at the window of the wine-shop, cracking my nuts and drinking my liquor, when, through the fog, I saw the Chouette approach, accompanied by Bras Rouge's brat, little Tortillard. 'Ah, ah!' said I to myself, 'now the farce begins!' Well, the little hound of a child hid himself in one of the ditches of the Allée, and was evidently on the lookout. As for that——, the Chouette, she takes off her bonnet, puts it into her pocket, and rings the gate-bell. Our poor friend, M. Murphy, opens the door, and the one-eyed mother of mischief tosses up her arms and makes her way into the garden. I could have kicked myself for not being able to make out what the Chouette was up to. At last out she comes, puts on her bonnet, says two words to Tortillard, who returns to his hole, and then 'cuts her stick.' I say to myself, 'Caution! no blunder now! Tortillard has come with the Chouette; then the Schoolmaster and M. Rodolph are at Bras Rouge's. The Chouette has come out to reconnoitre about the house; then, sure as a gun, they'll "try it on" this very night! If they do, M. Rodolph, who believes they will not go to work till to-morrow, is quite over-reached; and if he is over-reached, I ought to go to Bras Rouge's and see for him. True; but then suppose that the Schoolmaster arrives in the meantime—that's to be thought of. Suppose I go to the house and see M. Murphy—mind your eye! that urchin Tortillard is near the door; he will hear me ring the bell, see me, and give the word to the Chouette; and if she returns, that will spoil all; and the more particularly as perhaps M. Rodolph has, after all, made his arrangements for this evening.' Confound it! these yes and no bothered my brain tremendously. I was quite bewildered, and saw nothing clear before me. I didn't know what to do for the best, so I said, 'I'll walk out, and perhaps the clear air will brighten my thoughts a bit.' I went out, and the open air cleared my brain; so I took off my blouse and my neck-handkerchief, I went to the ditch where Tortillard lay, and taking the young devil's kin by the cuff of his neck—how he did wriggle, and twist, and scuffle, and scratch!—I put him into my blouse, tying up one end with the sleeves and the bottom tightly with my cravat. He could breathe very well. Well, then I took the bundle under my arm, and passing a low, damp garden, surrounded by a little wall, I threw the brat Tortillard into the midst of a cabbage-bed. He squeaked like a sucking-pig, but nobody could hear him two steps off. I cut off; it was time. I climbed up one of the high trees in the Allée, just in front of your door, and over the ditch in which Tortillard had been stationed. Ten minutes afterwards I heard footsteps; it was raining still, and the night was very dark. I listened—it was the Chouette. 'Tortillard! Tortillard!' says she, in a low voice. 'It rains, and the little brat is tired of waiting,' said the Schoolmaster, swearing; 'if I catch him, I'll skin him alive!' 'Fourline, take care!' replied the Chouette. 'Perhaps he has gone to warn us of something that has happened—maybe, some trap for us. The young fellow would not make the attempt till ten o'clock.' 'That's the very reason,' replies the Schoolmaster; 'it is now only seven o'clock. You saw the money—nothing venture, nothing have. Give me the ripping chisel and the jemmy—'"

      "What instruments are they?" asked Rodolph.

      "They came from Bras Rouge's. Oh, he has a well-furnished house! In a crack the door is opened. 'Stay where you are,' said the Schoolmaster to the Chouette; 'keep a bright lookout, and give me the signal if you hear anything.' 'Put your "pinking-iron" in the buttonhole of your waistcoat, that you may have it handy,' said the old hag. The Schoolmaster entered the garden, and I instantly, coming down from the tree, fell on the Chouette. I silenced her with two blows of my fist—my new style—and she fell without a word. I ran into the garden, but, thunder and lightning, M. Rodolph! it was too late—"

      "Poor Murphy!"

      "He was struggling on the ground with the Schoolmaster at the entrance, and, although wounded, he held his voice and made no cry for help. Excellent man! he is like a good dog, bites, but doesn't bark. Well, I went bang, heads or tails, at it, hitting the Schoolmaster on the shoulder, which was the only place I could at the moment touch. 'Vive la Charte! it's I!' 'The Chourineur!' shouts M. Murphy. 'Ah, villain! where do you come from?' cries out the Schoolmaster, quite off his guard at that. 'What's that to you?' says I, fixing one of his legs between my knees, and grasping his 'fin' with my other hand; it was that in which he held his dagger. 'And M. Rodolph?' asked M. Murphy of me, whilst doing all in his power to aid me—"

      "Worthy, kind-hearted creature!" murmured Rodolph, in a tone of deep distress.

      "'I know nothing of him,' says I; 'this scoundrel, perhaps, has killed him.' And then I went with redoubled strength at the Schoolmaster, who tried to stick me with his larding-pin; but I lay with my breast on his arm, and so he only had his fist at liberty. 'You are, then, quite alone?' says I to M. Murphy, whilst we still struggled desperately with the Schoolmaster. 'There are people close at hand,' he replied; 'but they did

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