y, and
you will be none the wiser. My ledgers are here," he said tapping his
forehead. "Now I know who sold me! It could only be that blackguard
Fil-de-Soie. That is who it was, old catchpoll, eh?" he said, turning to
the chief. "It was timed so neatly to get the banknotes up above there.
There is nothing left for you--spies! As for Fil-de-Soie, he will be
under the daisies in less than a fortnight, even if you were to tell off
the whole force to protect him. How much did you give the Michonnette?"
he asked of the police officers. "A thousand crowns? Oh you Ninon in
decay, Pompadour in tatters, Venus of the graveyard, I was worth more
than that! If you had given me warning, you should have had six thousand
francs. Ah! you had no suspicion of that, old trafficker in flesh and
blood, or I should have had the preference. Yes, I would have given six
thousand francs to save myself an inconvenient journey and some loss of
money," he said, as they fastened the handcuffs on his wrists. "These
folks will amuse themselves by dragging out this business till the end
of time to keep me idle. If they were to send me straight to jail, I
should soon be back at my old tricks in spite of the duffers at the Quai
des Orfevres. Down yonder they will all turn themselves inside out to
help their general--their good Trompe-la-Mort--to get clear away. Is
there a single one among you that can say, as I can, that he has ten
thousand brothers ready to do anything for him?" he asked proudly.
"There is some good there," he said tapping his heart; "I have never
betrayed any one!--Look you here, you slut," he said to the old maid,
"they are all afraid of me, do you see? but the sight of you turns them
sick. Rake in your gains."

He was silent for a moment, and looked round at the lodgers' faces.

"What dolts you are, all of you! Have you never seen a convict before?
A convict of Collin's stamp, whom you see before you, is a man less
weak-kneed than others; he lifts up his voice against the colossal fraud
of the Social Contract, as Jean Jacques did, whose pupil he is proud
to declare himself. In short, I stand here single-handed against a
Government and a whole subsidized machinery of tribunals and police, and
I am a match for them all."

"Ye gods!" cried the painter, "what a magnificent sketch one might make
of him!"

"Look here, you gentlemen-in-waiting to his highness the gibbet, master
of ceremonies to the widow" (a nickname full of sombre poet