pt their hands on
M. Leblanc:--

"Stand off a little, and let me have a talk with the gentleman."

All retired towards the door.

He went on:--

"Monsieur, you did wrong to try to jump out of the window. You might
have broken your leg. Now, if you will permit me, we will converse
quietly. In the first place, I must communicate to you an observation
which I have made which is, that you have not uttered the faintest cry."

Thenardier was right, this detail was correct, although it had escaped
Marius in his agitation. M. Leblanc had barely pronounced a few words,
without raising his voice, and even during his struggle with the six
ruffians near the window he had preserved the most profound and singular
silence.

Thenardier continued:--

"Mon Dieu! You might have shouted 'stop thief' a bit, and I should not
have thought it improper. 'Murder!' That, too, is said occasionally,
and, so far as I am concerned, I should not have taken it in bad part.
It is very natural that you should make a little row when you find
yourself with persons who don't inspire you with sufficient confidence.
You might have done that, and no one would have troubled you on that
account. You would not even have been gagged. And I will tell you why.
This room is very private. That's its only recommendation, but it has
that in its favor. You might fire off a mortar and it would produce
about as much noise at the nearest police station as the snores of a
drunken man. Here a cannon would make a boum, and the thunder would make
a pouf. It's a handy lodging. But, in short, you did not shout, and
it is better so. I present you my compliments, and I will tell you the
conclusion that I draw from that fact: My dear sir, when a man shouts,
who comes? The police. And after the police? Justice. Well! You have not
made an outcry; that is because you don't care to have the police and
the courts come in any more than we do. It is because,--I have long
suspected it,--you have some interest in hiding something. On our side
we have the same interest. So we can come to an understanding."

As he spoke thus, it seemed as though Thenardier, who kept his eyes
fixed on M. Leblanc, were trying to plunge the sharp points which darted
from the pupils into the very conscience of his prisoner. Moreover, his
language, which was stamped with a sort of moderated, subdued insolence
and crafty insolence, was reserved and almost choice, and in that
rascal, who had been nothing bu