"And thou canst read this still better." He let a gold louis drop on
the table. She put out a claw, and, failing through tremor to pick it
up, drew it to the edge, and for a moment held it under her eyes; then
she put it into her mouth, and, apparently satisfied, chewed on it,
moving her lower jaw from side to side.
"A good purse, _maman_. It would be a bold man or a blind would steal
thy head for the gold. Heads always lose in our France to-day; thy own
is none too sure, _maman_."
"If thou art thinking to scare Quatre Pattes, it won't do. Ha! it won't
pay." She looked as if it would not.
Francois saw that he had made a misplay. He laughed his best. "_Nom de
diable!_ thou didst like a joke once. No matter. My time is short. I
expect a citizen in a few minutes. Is my old room empty?"
"Yes, and half the rest. I tell thee, _mon fils_, I have missed thee."
"Give me the key, and pen, ink, and paper. These will do. Thy ink is
dry. A little water--so. I shall come down in a minute or two, and
take the citizen up with me. After that I shall come down alone. The
citizen will be locked up."
"Good. Will he be alive? I will have no tricks; they get one into
trouble."
"Alive! Yes; he will howl."
"Ah, he will howl. What shall I get?"
"He will pay to get out."
"He will pay--how much?"
"One--two--three hundred francs."
"Pshaw! Paper?"
"No; gold. At four to-morrow--no later, no sooner--at four to-morrow
thou wilt let him out; and, mind thee, Dame Quatre Pattes, this is
business of the republic. What happens to him after he is let out is of
no moment. He may very likely make a fuss; he is bad-tempered. Wilt
thou take the risk?"
"I--Quatre Pattes? Three hundred francs! I?"
"If I return not to give further orders before twelve, thou mayst ask
the municipals to be here at four. That will save trouble. He will then
be in no way to swear thou hast his money. That may be the best plan.
I have no mind to get thee into trouble. Now, hold thy tongue; and
remember, it will be the little cripple Couthon who will reckon with
thee if in this business thou dost fail."
"This is all very well if thou dost not return; but who will pay me if
thou art of a mind to come and take him away thyself?"
"'T is a sharp old Crab," laughed Francois. "If I come for him, I
promise thee he shall pay thee full rent; and here is his _denier a
Dieu, maman_." He cast another louis in her lap. "If I come not by
noon, get all you can, and denounce him as a suspect; but remember--not
till four."
"_Queue du diable_! 'T is a fine transaction," cried the Crab, and
knocked her sticks together for emphasis. "We will bleed him like a
doctor; we will send in the bill under the door; and then--we will have
some nice municipals for sextons. Ha! ha! It is well to have the
credit on one's little _carte de surete_."
Francois assured her that the plan was good. At this point, however,
she became suddenly suspicious. She stood crouching over her sticks, the
snake-like head slowly moving from side to side, her eyes searching the
thief's smiling face. "Why is the man to be kept? What is it?"
He expected this. "Ask Couthon the palsied that, thou imbecile. I will
take him elsewhere. There are a dozen houses where they ask no
questions. Yes or no?"
"Yes, yes!" Caution was put to sleep by greed; or, more truly, by want,
which was nearing its extremity.
He felt secure. "If he should ring before I get down-stairs, let him
wait. Now, the ink and key."
"Is he to make his will? Thou wilt not be long?"
"No; I want something that I left."
"Ah! thou didst leave something?"
"Yes, and thou didst not find it, _maman_. Fie, fie, for a clever
woman! Well, if thou didst not find it, few could. Wait, now."
He went swiftly up-stairs with Toto, and unlocked the door, leaving the
key outside in the lock. He put the writing-materials on a table. In
the chimney, just within reach of his farthest touch, he found his
pistol. It was not loaded, and he had no powder to recharge it. He
laughed as, putting it behind him in his waist-belt, under his cloak, he
descended the stair.
"All is right. _Cordon_, if you please," he cried from the hall. He
had not waited outside five minutes when Gregoire appeared, in ordinary
dress, without the official feathered hat or the scarf of a functionary.
He was now sober enough, but uneasy, and looked about him as if fearing
recognition.
"Come," said Francois. They mounted the ill-smelling stairway to the
attic. Neither spoke. Once they were within the room, Francois said:
"Sit down." He took a stool, placing himself between Gregoire and the
door. "To business," he said, and slipped out the famous letter from
Gregoire to De la Vicomterie. He glanced at it, laughing. "There are
three or more heads in this," he said. "Robespierre would pay well for
it, or Saint-Just. One might put it up at auction. There would be high
bidding."