ttered the woman, "not so loud! These are matters which must
not be overheard."

"Bah! Who's here? Our neighbor? I saw him go out a little while ago.
Besides, he doesn't listen, the big booby. And I tell you that I saw him
go out."

Nevertheless, by a sort of instinct, Jondrette lowered his voice,
although not sufficiently to prevent Marius hearing his words. One
favorable circumstance, which enabled Marius not to lose a word of this
conversation was the falling snow which deadened the sound of vehicles
on the boulevard.

This is what Marius heard:--

"Listen carefully. The Croesus is caught, or as good as caught! That's
all settled already. Everything is arranged. I have seen some people. He
will come here this evening at six o'clock. To bring sixty francs, the
rascal! Did you notice how I played that game on him, my sixty francs,
my landlord, my fourth of February? I don't even owe for one quarter!
Isn't he a fool! So he will come at six o'clock! That's the hour when
our neighbor goes to his dinner. Mother Bougon is off washing dishes in
the city. There's not a soul in the house. The neighbor never comes home
until eleven o'clock. The children shall stand on watch. You shall help
us. He will give in."

"And what if he does not give in?" demanded his wife.

Jondrette made a sinister gesture, and said:--

"We'll fix him."

And he burst out laughing.

This was the first time Marius had seen him laugh. The laugh was cold
and sweet, and provoked a shudder.

Jondrette opened a cupboard near the fireplace, and drew from it an old
cap, which he placed on his head, after brushing it with his sleeve.

"Now," said he, "I'm going out. I have some more people that I must see.
Good ones. You'll see how well the whole thing will work. I shall be
away as short a time as possible, it's a fine stroke of business, do you
look after the house."

And with both fists thrust into the pockets of his trousers, he stood
for a moment in thought, then exclaimed:--

"Do you know, it's mighty lucky, by the way, that he didn't recognize
me! If he had recognized me on his side, he would not have come back
again. He would have slipped through our fingers! It was my beard that
saved us! my romantic beard! my pretty little romantic beard!"

And again he broke into a laugh.

He stepped to the window. The snow was still falling, and streaking the
gray of the sky.

"What beastly weather!" said he.

Then lapping his overcoat across h