uently considerable value about her person, I acceded to the
proposition, and suggested to the Chouette that the Martials and
Barbillon should join her, so that I might be able to put the whole
party into your hands."

"And the Schoolmaster,--that fellow who is so dangerous, so powerful,
and so ferocious, and who was always with the Chouette,--one of the
frequenters of the _tapis-franc_?"

"The Schoolmaster?" said Bras-Rouge, feigning astonishment.

"Yes, a convict escaped from the galleys at Rochefort, Anselm Duresnel
by name, sentenced for life. We know now that he disfigured himself on
purpose, that he might not be recognised. Have you no trace of him?"

"None," replied Bras-Rouge, boldly, for he had his reasons for the lie,
the Schoolmaster being at this very moment shut up in one of the cellars
of the cabaret.

"There is every reason to believe that the Schoolmaster is the author of
fresh murders. He would be an important capture."

"No one knows what has become of him for the last six weeks."

"And that's the reason you are reproached with having lost all trace of
him."

"Always reproaches, M. Narcisse, always!"

"Not for want of ample cause! And how goes on the smuggling?"

"Is it not necessary that I should know something of all kinds of
persons--smugglers as well as others--in order to put you on the scent?
I disclosed to you that pipe to introduce liquids, established outside
the Barriere du Trone, and coming into a house in the street."

"I know that," said Narcisse, interrupting Bras-Rouge; "but for one that
you denounce, you allow ten to escape, and continue your traffic with
impunity. I am sure you eat at two mangers, as the saying is."

"Oh, M. Narcisse, I am incapable of an appetite so dishonest!"

"That is not all: in the Rue du Temple, No. 17, there lives a woman
named Burette, who lends money on deposit, who, they say, is a private
receiver of stolen goods on your account."

"What would you have me do, M. Narcisse? The world is so
slanderous,--says so many wicked things! Once again, I say, it is
necessary for me to mix with as many rogues as possible, that I even
seem one of themselves--so much the worse for them--in order that they
may not have any suspicions; but it cuts me to the heart to imitate
them,--cuts me to the heart. I must, indeed, be devoted to the service,
to give myself up to such a thing as that."

"Poor, dear man! I pity you with all my soul!"

"You are laughing at