ce with this agreement, as soon as night had fallen, Mange
was waiting for his employer at the corner of the Rue Taitbout and the
Rue de Provence. He was not kept long at his post, for Albert speedily
made his appearance, dressed in a blouse like a workman; his rough
trousers were tucked in the tops of his dusty boots and on his head he
wore a battered slouch hat that looked as if it might have seen service
behind the revolutionary barricades. Mange surveyed him with a long
glance of admiration; then taking him to a neighboring street lamp, he
critically examined his face, which was stained to represent the
bronzing effect of the sun and smeared with dirt.

"Capital!" exclaimed the ex-detective, as he finished his scrutiny. "You
are a zigue out and out! Not a trace of the boulevardier to be seen! The
most keen-scented vache in the caboulot would be completely deceived!"

Albert smiled at his companion's enthusiasm.

"Well, as I pass examination," he said, "let us go on at once. Do you
think our man will be at the caboulot?"

"Do I think water will run down hill!" cried Mange, with a laugh that
resembled nothing so much as the discordant croak of a crow. "He never
misses a night, and this is the hour when the brandy begins to flow!"

Albert shuddered at this remark, suggesting as it did the certainty that
he would find Eugenie's father a sot as well as a thief. He, however,
took Mange's arm and together they strolled leisurely into the Cite d'
Antin, making their way to the caboulot without meeting a single
suspicious prowler.

They entered the front room where Bouche-de-Miel had found the
slatternly young woman reading her greasy copy of the Gazette des
Tribunaux on the morning preceding the attempted robbery. She was at her
accustomed place behind the counter, but was not reading; eight or ten
stalwart ruffians monopolized her attention and, as she furnished her
thirsty customers with the various fiery beverages they demanded, she
showered her most captivating glances right and left among them. She was
as slatternly as ever, but her hair was shining with bear's grease and a
strong odor of musk pervaded her garments; a paste diamond of enormous
size but of doubtful brilliancy ornamented her breastpin and on her
stumpy, grimy fingers were numerous brass rings containing dull
imitations of rubies, amethysts and topazes.

As the new comers came in, Waldmann, standing in front of the counter
with a bottle in one hand