e?"

"A bottle of wine, glasses, and some water."

The ogress brought the supplies demanded, and Thomas Seyton threw her a
five-franc piece, and refused the change which she offered to him.

"Keep it, my good woman, for yourself, and perhaps you will take a glass
with us."

"You're uncommon purlite, sir," looking at the countess's brother with
as much surprise as gratitude.

"But tell me, now," said he; "we had appointed to meet a friend in a
cabaret in this street, and have, perhaps, mistaken the house in coming
here."

"This is the 'White Rabbit,' at your service, sir."

"That's right enough, then," said Thomas, making a sign to Sarah; "yes,
it was at the 'White Rabbit' that he was to give us the meeting."

"There are not two 'White Rabbits' in this street," said the ogress,
with a toss of her head. "But what sort of a person was your friend?"

"Tall, slim, and with hair and moustaches of light chestnut," said
Seyton.

"Exactly, exactly; that's the man who has just gone out. A charcoal-man,
very tall and stout, came in and said a few words to him, and they left
together."

"The very man we want to meet," said Tom.

"Were they alone here?" inquired Sarah.

"Why, the charcoal-man only came in for one moment; but your comrade
supped here with the Chourineur and Goualeuse;" and with a nod of her
head, the ogress pointed out the individual of the party who was left
still in the cabaret.

Thomas and Sarah turned towards the Chourineur. After contemplating him
for a few minutes, Sarah said, in English, to her companion, "Do you
know this man?"

"No; Karl lost all trace of Rodolph at the entrance of these obscure
streets. Seeing Murphy disguised as a charcoal-seller, keeping watch
about this cabaret, and constantly peeping through the windows, he was
afraid that something wrong was going on, and so came to warn us.
Murphy, no doubt, recognised him."

During this conversation, held in a very low tone, and in a foreign
tongue, the Schoolmaster said to the Chouette, looking at Tom and Sarah,
"The swell has shelled out a 'bull' to the ogress. It is just twelve,
rains and blows like the devil. When they leave the 'crib,' we will be
on their 'lay,' and draw the 'flat' of his 'blunt.' As his 'mot' is with
him, he'll hold his jaw."

If Tom and Sarah had heard this foul language, they would not have
understood it, and would not have detected the plot against them.

"Be quiet, _fourline_," answered the Chouette;