oses will look blue."

"And no mistake!"

"And since the Skeleton is safe to suffer, why, it'll cost him nothing
to put a nose out of joint!"

"Well, I think it's too bad," said Frank, "to kill the young chap."

"Why? Why?" exclaimed the Skeleton, in a savage tone; "no one has a
right to protect a traitor."

"Yes, to be sure, he is a traitor,--so much the worse for him," said
Frank, after a moment's reflection.

These latter words, and Gros-Boiteux's assurance, put the doubts which
the other prisoners had entertained against Frank to rest.

The Skeleton alone continued to mistrust him.

"And what are we to do with the turnkey? Tell us, Dead-Alive, for that
is your name as well as the Skeleton," said Nicholas, with a grin.

"We must draw off his attention somehow."

"No; we'll hold him down by main force."

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Silence in the stone jug!" said the Skeleton.

There was complete silence.

"Listen to me!" said the _prevot_, in his hoarse voice. "There is no
means of doing the thing so long as the turnkey remains in the day-room
or the walking-yard. I have no knife, and there must be a few groans,
for the sneak will struggle."

"Well, what then?"

"Why, this. Pique-Vinaigre has promised to tell us to-day after dinner
his story of 'Gringalet and Cut-in-Half.' It rains, and we shall all
come here, and the sneak will come and sit down there in the corner, as
he always does. We'll give Pique-Vinaigre some sous that he may begin
his tale. It will be dinner-time in the gaol; the turnkey will see us
quietly employed in listening to the miraculous mystery of 'Gringalet
and Cut-in-Half,' and will, suspecting no harm, make off to the tap. As
soon as he has left the yard we shall have a quarter of an hour to
ourselves, and the nose will be cold meat before the turnkey can return.
I will undertake it,--I who have done for stouter fellows in my day; and
mind, I'll have no assistance!"

"Mind your eye!" cried Cardillac; "and what about the _huissier_ who
will always come for a gossip amongst us at dinner-time? If he comes
into the room to listen to Pique-Vinaigre, and sees Germain done for, he
will cry out for help. He's not one of us, the _huissier_,--he's in a
private cell, and we should mistrust him."

"Is there a _huissier_ here?" said Frank, the victim as we know of a
breach of trust, by Maitre Boulard. "Is there a _huissier_ here?" he
repeated, with astonishment, "and what is his name?"

"Boular