THE LIONS' DEN.
If the appearance of a house of confinement, constructed with every
attention to salubrity and humanity, has nothing repulsive in its
aspect, the sight of the prisoners causes a very different feeling. At
the sight of the criminals who fill the gaols, we are at first seized
with a shudder of fear and horror. It is only after some reflection that
this is overcome, and feelings of pity mixed with bitterness overcome
us.
To understand the feeling of horror and fear, our reader must follow us
to the Fosse aux Lions (the Lions' Den), one of the yards in La Force so
called. In this are usually placed the most dangerous criminals, whose
ferocity, or the charges against whom, are most serious. At this time
they had been compelled to place there, in consequence of the
alterations making in the prison, many other prisoners. These, although
equally under accusations and awaiting the assizes, were almost all
respectable persons in comparison with the usual occupants of the Lions'
Den. The sky, gloomy, gray, and rainy, cast a dull light over the scene
we are about to depict, and which took place in the centre of the yard
of considerable extent, square, and enclosed by high white walls, having
here and there several grated windows.
At one end of this yard was a narrow door with a wicket; at the other
end, at the entrance to the day-room, a large apartment with a stove in
the centre, surrounded by wooden benches, on which were sitting and
lying several prisoners conversing together. Others, preferring
exercise, were walking up and down the walks, four or five in a row, arm
in arm. It requires the pencil of Salvator or Goya, in order to sketch
the different specimens of physical and moral ugliness, to render in its
hideous fantasy the variety of costumes worn by these men, for the most
part covered with squalid rags,--for being only accused, _i. e._
supposed innocent, they were not clad in the usual uniform of the
central houses. Some, however, wore it; for on their entrance into gaol,
their rags appeared so filthy and infected that, after the usual washing
and bath, they had the frock and trousers of coarse gray cloth, as worn
by the criminals, assigned to them.
A phrenologist would have observed attentively those embrowned and
weather-beaten countenances, those flat or narrow foreheads, those cruel
or crafty looks, the wicked or stupid mouth, the enormous neck,--they
nearly all presented frightful resemblances to brutes. In the cunning
looks of one was seen the perfidious subtlety of the fox, in another was
the sanguinary rapacity of the bird of prey, in a third, the ferocity of
a tiger; and, in all, the animal stupidity of the brute. We will sketch
one or two of the most striking physiognomies in the Fosse aux Lions.
Whilst the turnkey was watching his charge, a sort of council was being
held in the day-room. Amongst the prisoners there assembled were
Barbillon and Nicholas Martial. The prisoner who appeared to preside and
lead in this debate was a scoundrel called the Skeleton, whose name has
been often mentioned by the Martial family in the Isle du Ravageur. The
Skeleton was _prevot_, or captain, of the day-room. This fellow was tall
and about forty years of age, fully justifying his sinister nickname by
a meagreness impossible to describe, but which might almost be termed
osteologic.
If the countenance of the Skeleton presented more or less analogy with
that of the tiger, the vulture, or the fox, the shape of his forehead,
receding as it did, his bony, flat, and lengthened jaws, supported by a
neck of disproportioned length, instantly reminded you of the
conformation of a serpent. Complete baldness increased still more this
hideous resemblance, for beneath the corded skin of his forehead, nearly
as flat as a reptile's, might be distinguished the smallest
protuberances, the smallest sutures of his skull. His beardless face was
exactly like old parchment tightly distended over the bones of his face,
and only somewhat stretched from the projection of the cheek-bone to the
angle of the lower jaw, the working of which was distinctly visible. His
eyes, small and lowering, were so deeply imbedded, and the rim of his
brow so prominent, that under his yellow brow, when the light fell, were
seen two orbits literally filled with shadows; and, a little further on,
the eyes seemed to disappear in the depths of these two dark cavities,
these two black holes, which gave so sinister an aspect to the skeleton
head. His long teeth, whose alveolar projections were to be accurately
traced beneath the tanned skin of his bony and flat jaws, were almost
continually developed by a habitual sneer.
Although the stiffened muscles of this man were almost reduced to
tendons, he possessed extraordinary strength, and the strongest resisted
with difficulty the grasp of his long arms, his long and lean fingers.
He had the formidable clutch of a skeleton of iron. He wore a blue
smock-frock, very short, and which exposed (and he was vain of it) his
knotted hands and half his forearm, or rather two bones, the radius and
the ulna (this anatomy will be excused us), two bones enveloped in a
coarse and black skin, separated by a deep groove, in which were some
veins hard and dry as cords. When he placed his hands on a table he
seemed, as Pique-Vinaigre justly remarked, as if he were spreading out a
game of knuckle-bones.
The Skeleton, after having passed fifteen years of his life at the
galleys for an attempt at robbery and murder, had broken his ban and
been taken in the very act of theft and murder. The last assassination
had been committed with circumstances of such ferocity that the ruffian
made up his mind, and with reason, that he should be condemned to death.
The influence which the Skeleton exercised over the other prisoners,
from his strength, energy, and wickedness, had caused him to be chosen
by the director of the prison as _prevot_ of the dormitory,--that is to
say, the Skeleton was charged with the police of the chamber as far as
concerned its order, arrangement, and the cleanliness of the room and
the beds, a duty which he discharged perfectly; and no prisoner dared to
fail in the cares and duties which he superintended. The Skeleton was
discoursing with several prisoners, amongst whom were Barbillon and
Nicholas Martial.
"Are you sure of what you say?" inquired the Skeleton of Martial.
"Yes, yes,--a hundred times, yes! Father Micou heard it from the
Gros-Boiteux, who has already tried to knock this hound on the head
because he peached about some one."
"Then let's do for him,--brush him up!" said Barbillon. The Skeleton was
already inclined to give that skulking Germain a turn of his hand.
The _prevot_ took his pipe from his mouth for a moment, and then said,
in a tone so low and husky as to be scarcely audible:
"Germain kept aloof from us, gave himself airs, watched us,--for the
less one talks the more one listens. We meant to get rid of him out of
the Fosse aux Lions, and if we had given him a quiet squeeze, they'd
have taken him away."
"Well, then," inquired Nicholas, "what alteration need there be now?"
"This alteration," replied the Skeleton; "that if he has turned
informer, as the Gros-Boiteux declares, he mustn't get off with a quiet
squeeze."
"By no manner o' means!" said Barbillon.
"We must make an example of him," continued the Skeleton, warming as he
went on. "It is not now the nabs who look out for us, but the noses.
Jacques and Gauthier, who were guillotined the other day, were informed
against,--nosed; Rousillon, sent to the galleys for life,--nosed."
"And me, and my mother, and Calabash, and my brother at Toulon," cried
Nicholas; "have we not all been nosed by Bras-Rouge? To be sure we have;
because, instead of shutting him up here with us, he has been sent to La
Roquette. They daren't put him with us; he knew he had done us wrong,
the old--"
"Well," added Barbillon, "and didn't Bras-Rouge nose upon me, too?"
"And I, too," said a young prisoner, in a thin voice, and lisping
affectedly. "I was split upon by Jobert, who had proposed to me a little
affair in the Rue St. Martin."
The latter personage, with a fluty voice, pale, fat, and effeminate
face, and with a sly and treacherous glance, was singularly attired. He
wore as a head-dress a red pocket-handkerchief, which exposed two locks
of light brown hair close to his temples; the two ends of his
handkerchief formed a projecting rosette over his forehead; his cravat
was a merino shawl, with a large pattern, which crossed over his chest;
his mulberry-coloured waistcoat almost disappeared beneath the tight
waistband of a very large pair of trousers of plaid, with very large and
different-coloured checks.
"And was not that shameful? Such a man to turn against me!" he added, in
his shrill voice. "Yet, really, nothing in the world would have made me
distrust Jobert."
"I know very well that he sold you, Javatte," replied the Skeleton, who
seemed to protect the prisoner peculiarly; "and as a proof that they
have done for thy nose the same as they have done for Bras-Rouge, they
have not dared to leave Jobert here, but sent him to the stone jug of
the Conciergerie. Well, there must be an end put to this! There must be
an example; for traitors are doing the work of the police, and believe
themselves safe in their skins because they are put in a different
prison from those on whom they have nosed."
"That's true."
"To prevent this, every prisoner should consider every nose as his
deadly enemy. Whether he informs against Peter or James, here or there,
that's nothing; fall on him tooth and nail. When we have made cold meat
of four or five in the prisons, the others will think twice before they
turn 'snitch.'"
"You're right, Skeleton," said Nicholas; "and let Germain be number
one."
"And no mistake," replied the _prevot_; "but let us wait until the
Gros-Boiteux arrives. When, for instance, he has proved to all the world
that Germain is a nose the thing shall be settled out of hand; the calf
shall bleat no more, we'll stop his wind."
"And what shall we do with the turnkeys who watch us?" inquired the
prisoner whom the Skeleton called Javatte.
"I have my plan, which Pique-Vinaigre will aid."
"He! He's a coward."
"And no stronger than a flea."
"I'm awake. Where is he?"
"He had come out of the visiting-room, but went back again to see his
lawyer."
"And is Germain still in the visiting-room?"
"Yes, with the little wench who comes to see him."
"When he returns be on your guard. But we must wait for Pique-Vinaigre,
without him we can do nothing."
"No?"
"No."
"And Germain shall be done for?"
"I'll take care of that."
"But with what? They have taken all our knives away."
"What do you think of these nippers, would you like to have your neck in
their clutch?" asked the Skeleton, opening his long bony fingers, hard
as iron.
"You'll choke him?"
"Decidedly."
"But if they find out that it is you?"
"Well, what if they do? Am I a calf with two heads, such as they show at
the fair?"
"No, that's true; a man has but one throat, and yours--"
"Is sentenced; my lawyer told me so yesterday. I was taken with my hand
in the bag, and my knife in the weasand of the stiff'un. I'm a 'return
horse,' too; so nothing can be more certain. I'll drop my head into
Charlot's (the headsman's) basket, and I shall see if it's true that he
does his customers, and puts sawdust into his basket instead of the bran
which government allows us."
"True, the guillotine has a right to its bran. Now, I remember my father
was robbed in the same way," said Nicholas Martial, with a ferocious
grin.
This horrid jest created immense laughter amongst the prisoners. This is
fearful, but far from exaggeration; we give but a faint idea of these
conversations, so common in prisons. The prisoners were all laughing
joyously.
"Thousand thunders!" cried the Skeleton. "I wish they who punish us
would come and see how we bear it. If they will come to the Barriere St.
Jacques the day of my benefit they will hear me address the audience in
a neat and appropriate speech, and say to Charlot, in a gentlemanly
tone, 'Pere Sampson, the cord if you please.'"[1]
[1] To understand this horrid jest the English reader must know
that the doors in France are usually opened by the porter, who
sits in his room and pulls a cord to allow the person going out
to have free egress; and the blade of the guillotine glides
down the grooves of the machine, after a spring has been set in
motion, by touching a cord that acts upon it.
Fresh bursts of laughter hailed this jest.
"And then Charlot opens the baker's (the devil's) door," continued the
Skeleton, still smoking his pipe.
"Ah, bah! Is there a devil?"
"You fool, I was only joking. There's a sharp blade, and they put a head
under it, and that's all. And now that I know my road, and must stay at
the abbey of _Mont-a-Regret_ (guillotine), I would rather go there
to-day than to-morrow," said the Skeleton, with savage excitement. "I
wish I was there now,--my blood comes into my mouth when I think what a
crowd there'll be to see me; there'll be, at least, I should say, from
four to five thousand who will push and squeeze to get good places, and
they'll hire seats and windows, as if for a grand procession. I hear 'em
now crying, 'Seats to let! Seats to let!' And then there'll be troops of
soldiers, cavalry and infantry, and all for me,--for the Skeleton!
That's enough to rouse a man if he was as big a coward as
Pique-Vinaigre, that would make you walk like a hero. All eyes on you,
and that makes a fellow pluck up; then--'tis but a moment--a fellow dies
game, and that annoys the big-wigs and curs, and gives the knowing ones
pluck to face the chopper."
"That's true, on Gospel!" added Barbillon, trying to imitate the fearful
audacity of the Skeleton; "they think to make us funky when they set
Charlot to work to get his shop open at our expense."
"Ah, bah!" said Nicholas, in his turn; "we laugh at Charlot and his
shop; it is like the prison or the galleys,--we laugh at them, too; and
so, that we may be all friends together, let's be jolly as long as we
can."
"The thing that would do us," said the shrill-voiced prisoner, "would be
to put us in solitary cells day and night. They do say they mean to do
so at last."
"In solitary cells!" exclaimed the Skeleton, with repressed rage; "don't
talk of it! Solitary cell--alone! Hold your tongue! I would rather have
my arms and legs cut off! Alone within four walls! Quite alone--without
having our pals to laugh with! Oh, that will never be! I like the
galleys a hundred times better than the central prison, because at the
galleys, instead of being shut up, one is out-of-doors, sees the world,
people going and coming, and has his jokes and fun. Well, I'd rather be
done for at once than be put in a solitary cell, if only for a year.
Yes, for at this moment I am sure to be guillotined--ain't I? Well, if
they said to me, 'Would you rather have a year of solitary confinement?'
I should hold out my neck. A year all alone! Why, is it possible? What
do they suppose a man thinks of when he is alone?"
"Suppose you were carried there by main force?"
"Well, I wouldn't stay; I would make such use of my hands and feet that
I should escape," replied the Skeleton.
"But if you couldn't,--if you were unable to escape?"
"Then I'd kill the first person who came near me, in order to have my
head chopped off."
"But if, instead of sentencing such as us to death, they condemned us to
be in solitary confinement for life?"
The Skeleton appeared struck at this remark, and, after a moment's
silence, replied:
"Why, then, I'll tell you what I should do,--I should dash out my brains
against the walls. I would starve rather than be in a solitary cell.
What, all alone! all my life alone with myself,--and no chance of
escape! I tell you it is impossible. Well, you know, there's no man more
reckless than I am--I'd kill a man for a dollar, and for nothing if my
honour was concerned; they believe I have only killed two persons, but
if the dead could tell tales there are five tongues could say what I
have done."
The ruffian was boasting. The sanguinary declarations are still another
trait of the hardened criminals. A governor of a prison said to us, "If
the assassinations boasted of by these scoundrels were really committed,
the population would be decimated."
"And I, too," said Barbillon, desirous of bragging in his turn; "they
think I only silenced the husband of the milk-woman in the Cite, but I
did many others with tall Robert, who suffered last year."
"I was going to say," continued the Skeleton, "that I fear neither fire
nor devil. Well, if I were in a solitary cell, and certain I could not
escape,--thunder! I believe I should be frightened!"
"And so, if you had to begin your time over again as prig and throttler,
and if, instead of central houses, galleys, and guillotine, there were
only solitary cells, you would hesitate before such a chance?"
"_Ma foi!_ I believe I really should!" replied the Skeleton.
And he said truly. It is impossible to describe the vast terror which
such ruffians experience at the very idea of being in solitary
confinement. And is not this very terror an eloquent plea in favour of
this punishment?
* * * * *
An uproarious noise made by the prisoners in the yard interrupted the
Skeleton's council. Nicholas rose hastily, and went to the door of the
room to discover the cause of this unusual tumult.
"It is the Gros-Boiteux," said Nicholas, returning.
"The Gros-Boiteux!" exclaimed the _prevot_. "And has Germain come down
from the visiting-room?"
"Not yet," replied Barbillon.
"Then let him make haste," said the Skeleton, "and I'll give him an
order for a new coffin."
The Gros-Boiteux, whose arrival was so warmly hailed by the prisoners in
the lions' den, and whose information might be so fatal to Germain, was
a man of middle stature; but, in spite of being fat and crippled, he was
nimble and vigorous. His countenance, brutal like that of most of his
companions, was of the bulldog character; his low forehead, his small
yellow eyes, his flaccid cheeks, his heavy jaws, the lower being very
projecting, and armed with long teeth, or, rather, broken fangs, which
in places projected beyond his lips, made his resemblance to that animal
the more striking. He wore a felt cap, and over his clothes a blue cloak
with a fur collar.
The Gros-Boiteux was accompanied into the prison by a man about thirty
years of age, whose tanned and freckled face appeared less dissolute
than that of the other prisoners, although he affected to appear as
dogged as his companion. From time to time his features became overcast,
and he smiled bitterly. The Gros-Boiteux soon found himself amongst his
boon companions and acquaintances, and he could scarcely reply to the
congratulations and kind words which came to him from all sides.
"What, is it you, old boy? All right! Now we shall have some fun."
"You haven't hurried yourself."
"Still I have done all I could to see my friends again as soon as
possible, and it was no fault of mine if the stone jug didn't claim me
sooner."
"Don't doubt you, old boy! And a man doesn't pick out a gaol as his
favourite residence; but once trapped he does his best to be jolly."
"And so we shall be, for Pique-Vinaigre is here."
"Is he? What, one of the old customers of Melun? Why, that's capital!
For he'll help us to pass the time with his stories, and his customers
will not fail him, for there are more recruits coming in."
"Who are they?"
"Why, just now at the entrance, whilst I came in, I saw two fresh chaps
brought in; one I didn't know, but the other, who wore a blue cotton cap
and a gray blouse, I have seen before somewhere. He is a
powerful-looking man, and I think I have met him at the Ogress's of the
White Rabbit."
"I say, Gros-Boiteux, don't you remember at Melun I bet you a wager that
in less than a year you would be nabbed again?"
"To be sure I do, and you've won. But what are you here for?"
"Oh, I was caught on the prigging lay--_a la Americaine_."
"Ah, always in the same line."
"Yes, I continue in my usual small way. The rig is common, but there are
always 'culls'; and but for the stupidity of a pal I should not be here.
However, once caught twice warned; and when I begin again I will be more
careful,--I have my plan."
"Ah, here's Cardillac!" said the Boiteux, going to a little man
wretchedly dressed, with ill-looking aspect, full of craft and
malignity, and with features partaking of the wolf and fox. "Ah, old
chap, how are you?"
"Ah, old limper," replied the prisoner nicknamed Cardillac to the
Gros-Boiteux; "they said every day, 'He's coming--he's not coming!' But
you are like the pretty girls, you do as you like."
"Yes, to be sure."
"Well," replied Cardillac, "is it for something spicy that you are here
now?"
"Yes, my dear fellow, I had done one or two good things, but the last
was a failure; it was an out-and-out-go, and may still be done.
Unfortunately, Frank and I overshot the mark."
And the Gros-Boiteux pointed to his companion, towards whom all eyes now
turned.
"Ah, so it is--it's Frank!" said Cardillac; "I didn't know him again
because of his beard. What, Franky! Why, I thought you'd turned honest,
and was, at least, mayor of your village."
"I was an ass, and I've suffered for it," said Frank, quickly; "but
every sin has its repentance. I was good once, and now I'm a prig for
the rest of my days. Let 'em look out when I get out."
"What happened to you, Frank?"
"What happens to every free convict who is donkey enough to think he can
turn honest. Fate is just! When I left Melun I'd saved nine hundred and
odd francs."
"Yes, that's true," said the Gros-Boiteux, "all his misfortunes have
come from his keeping his savings, instead of spending 'em jolly when he
left the 'jug.' You see what repentance leads to!"
"They sent me, _en surveillance_, to Etampes," replied Frank; "being a
locksmith by trade, I went to a master in my line and said to him, 'I am
a freed convict, I know no one likes to employ such, but here are nine
hundred francs of my savings, give me work, my money will be your
guarantee, for I want to work and be honest.'"
"What a joke!"
"Well, you'll see how it answered. I offered my savings as a guarantee
to the master locksmith that he might give me work. 'I'm not a banker to
take money on interest,' says he to me, 'and I don't want any freed
convicts in my shop. I go to work in houses to open doors where keys are
lost, I have a confidential business, and if it were known that I
employed a freed convict amongst my workmen I should lose my customers.
Good day, my man.'"
"Wasn't that just what he deserved, Cardillac?"
"Exactly."
"You simpleton!" said the Gros-Boiteux to Frank, with a paternal air;
"instead of breaking your ban at once, and coming to Paris to melt your
mopusses, so that you might not have a sou left, but be compelled to
return to robbing. You see the end of your fine ideas."
"That's what you are always saying," said Frank, with impatience; "it is
true I was wrong not to spend my 'tin,' for I have not even enjoyed it.
Well, as there were only four locksmiths in Etampes, he whom I had first
addressed had soon told all the others, and they said to me as had said
their fellow tradesman, 'No, thank ye.' All sung the same song."
"Only see, now, what it all comes to! You must see that we are all
marked for life."
"Well, then, I was on the idle of Etampes, and my money melted and
melted," continued Frank, "but no work came. I left Etampes, in spite of
my surveillance, and came to Paris, where I found work immediately, for
my employer did not know who or what I was, and it's no boast to say I
am a first-rate workman. Well, I put my seven hundred francs which I had
remaining into an agent's hands, who gave me a note for it; when that
was due he did not pay me, so I took my note to a _huissier_, who
brought an action against him, and recovered the money, which I left in
his hands, saying to myself there's something for a rainy day. Well,
just then I met the Gros-Boiteux."
"True. Well, Frank was a locksmith and made keys, I had a job in which
he could be of service, and I proposed it to him. I had the prints, and
he had only to go to work, when, only imagine, he refused,--he meant to
turn honest. So, says I, I'll arrange about that, I'll make him work,
for his own interest. So I wrote a letter, without any signature, to his
master, and another to his fellow workmen, to inform them that Frank was
a liberated convict,--so the master turned him away. He went to another
employer and worked there for a week,--same game again; and if he had
gone to a dozen I'd have served him in the same way."
"And if I had suspected that it was you who had informed against me,"
answered Frank, "I'd have given you a pleasant quarter of an hour to
pass. Well, I was at length driven away from my last employer as a scamp
only fit to be hanged. Work, then,--be respectable,--so that people may
say, not 'What are you doing?' but 'What have you done?' Once on the
_pave_ I said, 'Fortunately I have my savings to fall back upon.' So I
went to the _huissier_, but he had cut his stick, and spent my 'tin';
and here was I without a feather to fly with, not even enough to pay for
a week's lodging. What a precious rage I was in! Well, at this moment
comes the Gros-Boiteux, and he took advantage of my situation. I saw it
was useless trying to be honest, and that once on the prig there's no
leaving it. But, old Gros, I owe you a turn."
"Come, Frank, no malice!" replied the Gros-Boiteux. "Well, he did his
part like a man, and we entered upon the business, which promised
royally; but, unfortunately, at the moment when we opened our mouths to
swallow the dainty bit, the 'traps' were down upon us. Couldn't be
helped, you know, lad! If it wasn't for that, why, our profession would
be too good."
"Yet if that vagabond of a _huissier_ had not robbed me I should not
have been here," said Frank, with concentrated rage.
"Well, well," continued the Gros-Boiteux, "do you mean to say that you
were better off when you were breaking your back with work?"
"I was free," retorted Frank.
"Yes, on Sundays and when you were out of work, but the rest of the week
you were tied up like a dog, and never sure of employ. Why, you don't
know when you are well off."
"Will you teach me?" said Frank, bitterly.
"Well, you've a right to be vexed, for it was shameful to miss such a
good stroke; but it is still to be done in a month or two. The people
will become reassured, and it is a rich, very rich house. I shall be
sentenced for breaking my ban, and so cannot resume the job, but if I
find an amateur I will hand it over to him a bargain. My woman has the
prints, and there is nothing to do but make new keys, and with the
information I can give it must succeed. Why, there must be, at least,
400_l._ to lay hands on, and that ought to console you, Frank."
Frank shook his head, crossed his hands over his chest, and made no
reply.
Cardillac took the Gros-Boiteux by the arms, led him into a corner of
the yard, and said to him, after a moment's silence:
"Is the affair you have failed in still good?"
"In two months as good as new."
"Can you prove it?"
"Of course."
"And what do you ask for it?"
"A hundred francs as earnest; and I will give you the word arranged with
my woman, on which she will hand you the prints, from which you can make
the false keys. And, moreover, if the thing comes off, I shall expect a
fifth share of the swag to be handed over to my woman."
"That's not unreasonable."
"As I shall know to whom she has given the prints, if I am done out of
my share I shall know whom to inform against."
"And very right, too, if you were choused; but amongst prigs and
cracksmen there's honour,--we must rely on each other, or all business
would be impossible."
Another anomaly in this horrid existence. This villain spoke the truth.
It is very seldom that thieves fail in their faith in such arrangements
as these, but they usually act with a kind of good faith,--or, rather,
that we may not prostitute the word, we will say that necessity compels
these ruffians to keep their words; for if they failed, as the companion
of the Gros-Boiteux said, "All business would be impossible." A great
number of robberies are arranged, bought, and plotted in this way in
gaol,--another pernicious result of confinement in common.
"If what you say is sure," continued Cardillac, "I can agree for the
job. There are no proofs against me, I am sure to be acquitted, and in a
fortnight I shall be out; let us add three weeks in order to turn
oneself about, to get the false keys, and lay our plans, and then in six
weeks from this--"
"You'll go to the job in the very nick of time."
"Well, then, it's a bargain."
"But how about the earnest? I must have something down."
"Here is my last button, and when I have no more,--yet there are others
left," said Cardillac, tearing off a button covered with cloth from his
ragged blue coat, and then tearing off the covering with his nails, he
showed the Gros-Boiteux that, instead of a button-mould, it contained a
piece of forty francs. "You see I can pay deposit," he added, "when the
affair is arranged."
"That's the ticket, old fellow!" said the Gros-Boiteux. "And as you are
soon going out, and have got rhino to work with, I can put you up to
another thing,--a real good go,--the cheese,--a regular affair which my
woman and myself have been cooking up, and which only wants the
finishing stroke. Only imagine a lone street in a deserted quarter, a
ground floor, looking on one side into an obscure alley, and on the
other a garden, and here two old people, who go to roost with the cocks
and hens since the riots, and, for fear of being robbed, they have
concealed behind a panel, in a pot of preserves, a quantity of gold; my
woman found it out by gossiping with the servant. But I tell you this
will be a dearer job than t'other, for it is in hard cash, and all
cooked ready to eat and drink."
"We'll arrange it, be assured. But you haven't worked over well since
you left the central."
"Yes, I have had a pretty fair chance. I got together some trifles which
brought me nearly sixty pounds. One of my best bites was a pull at two
women who lodged in the same house with me in the Passage de la
Brasserie."
"What, at Daddy Micou's?"
"Yes."
"And your Josephine?"
"Just the same; a real ferret as ever. She cooks with the old couple I
have mentioned to you, and so smelt out the pot with the golden honey in
it."
"She's nothing but a trump!"
"I flatter myself she is. But, talking of trumps, you know the
Chouette?"
"Yes; Nicholas has told me the Schoolmaster did for her, and he has gone
mad."
"Perhaps from losing his sight through some accident. But I say, old
fellow, it's quite understood that you will buy my two bargains, and so
I shall not speak to any one else."
"Don't; and we will talk them over this evening."
"Well, and how are you getting on here?"
"Oh, we laugh and play the fool."
"Who's _prevot_ of the chamber?"
"The Skeleton."
"He's not to be joked with. I have seen him at Martial's, in the Isle du
Ravageur. We had a flare-up with Josephine and La Boulotte."
"By the way, Nicholas is here."
"So Micou told me when he made a lament that Nicholas was putting the
screw on--an old hunks! Why, what else were receivers made for?"
"Here is the Skeleton," said Cardillac, as the _prevot_ appeared at the
door of the room.
"Young 'un, come forward," said the Skeleton to the Gros-Boiteux.
"Here I am," he replied, going into the apartment, accompanied by Frank,
whose arm he held.
During the conversation between the Gros-Boiteux, Frank, and Cardillac,
Barbillon had been, by order of the _prevot_, to select twelve or
fifteen of the choicest prisoners, who (in order to avoid the suspicions
of the turnkey) had come separately into the day-room. The other
_detenus_ had remained in the yard, and some of them, by Barbillon's
advice, had appeared to be disputing, in order to take off the attention
of the turnkey from the room in which were now assembled the Skeleton,
Barbillon, Nicholas, Frank, Cardillac, the Gros-Boiteux, and some
fifteen other prisoners, all awaiting with impatient curiosity until the
_prevot_ should open the business.
Barbillon, charged with the look-out, placed himself near the door. The
Skeleton, taking his pipe from his mouth, said to the Gros-Boiteux:
"Do you know a slim young man named Germain, with blue eyes, brown hair,
and the look of a noodle?"
"What! Is Germain here?" inquired the Gros-Boiteux, with surprise, hate,
and anger in his looks.
"What, then, you know him?" said the Skeleton.
"Know him?" replied the Gros-Boiteux. "Why, my lads, I denounce him as a
nose, and he must be punished!"
"Yes, yes!" replied the prisoners.
"Are you sure it was he who informed against you?" asked Frank; "suppose
it was a mistake,--we mustn't ill-use a man who's innocent."
This remark was displeasing to the Skeleton, who leaned over to the
Gros-Boiteux, and said in his ear:
"Who is this man?"
"One with whom I have worked."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes--but he hasn't gull enough--too much treacle in him."
"Good, I'll keep an eye on him."
"Tell us how Germain turned nose," said a prisoner.
"Yes, let us know all about it, Gros-Boiteux," continued the Skeleton,
who did not take his eyes off Frank.
"Well, then," said Gros-Boiteux, "a man of Nantes, named Velu, a freed
convict, brought up the young fellow, whose birth no one is acquainted
with. When he had reached the proper age they put him into a
banking-house at Nantes, thinking they had put a wolf to watch the
money-box, and make use of Germain to do a bold and great stroke which
had been meditated for a very long time. There were to be two _coups_, a
forgery and a dip into the strong chest at the bank, something like a
hundred and fifty thousand francs. All was arranged, and Velu relied on
the young fellow as on himself, for the chap slept in the room in which
the iron safe was. Velu told him his plans; Germain neither says yes or
no, but reveals all to his employer, and the very same evening cuts his
stick and mizzles to Paris."
The prisoners burst into various murmurs of indignation and threats.
"He's a spy--nose--informer!--and we'll have the bones out of his body!"
"If it's agreeable, I'll seek a quarrel with him, and settle his hash!"
"Silence in the stone jug!" exclaimed the Skeleton, in a tone of
command.
The prisoners were silent.
"Go on," said the _prevot_ to Gros-Boiteux, and he went on smoking.
"Believing that Germain had consented, and relying on his assistance,
Velu and two of his friends attempted the job that same night. The
banker was on the watch; one of Velu's friends was taken as he was
entering a window, he himself escaping with difficulty. He reached Paris
enraged at having been sold by Germain, and foiled in a splendid affair.
One fine day he met the young fellow; it was in the open daylight, and
he didn't dare do anything, but he followed him, found out where he
lived, and one night we two, Velu and little Ledru, fell on Germain.
Unfortunately he escaped, and then changed his residence in the Rue du
Temple, where he lived; we were unable to find him afterwards. But if he
is here, I demand--"
"You have nothing to demand," said the Skeleton, in a tone of authority.
The Gros-Boiteux was instantly silent.
"I take the bargain off your hands; you will concede to me Germain's
skin, and I'll flay him alive. I am not called the Skeleton for nothing.
I am dead-alive, my grave is dug, and I run no risk in working for the
stone jug. The informers destroy us faster than the police; they put
noses of La Force into La Roquette, and the noses of La Roquette in the
Conciergerie, and they think themselves safe. Now, mind you, when each
prison shall have killed its informer, no matter when he may have
informed, that will take away the others' appetite. I will set the
example, and let others follow it."
All the prisoners, admiring the Skeleton's resolution, closed around
him. Barbillon himself, instead of remaining near the door, joined the
group, and did not perceive another prisoner, who had entered the room.
This individual, clothed in a gray blouse, and wearing a blue cotton cap
with a red worsted border, pulled down over his eyes, started as he
heard the name of Germain mentioned, and then, mingling with the
Skeleton's admirers, gave out loud tones of approbation at the deadly
determination of the _prevot_.
"What an out-and-outer the Skeleton is!" said one.
"The devil himself is a fool to him!"
"This here's what I call a man!"
"If all were like him, wouldn't the flats be afeard?"
"He'll do a real service to the stone jug, and when they see this, the
noses will look blue."
"And no mistake!"
"And since the Skeleton is safe to suffer, why, it'll cost him nothing
to put a nose out of joint!"
"Well, I think it's too bad," said Frank, "to kill the young chap."
"Why? Why?" exclaimed the Skeleton, in a savage tone; "no one has a
right to protect a traitor."
"Yes, to be sure, he is a traitor,--so much the worse for him," said
Frank, after a moment's reflection.
These latter words, and Gros-Boiteux's assurance, put the doubts which
the other prisoners had entertained against Frank to rest.
The Skeleton alone continued to mistrust him.
"And what are we to do with the turnkey? Tell us, Dead-Alive, for that
is your name as well as the Skeleton," said Nicholas, with a grin.
"We must draw off his attention somehow."
"No; we'll hold him down by main force."
"Yes!"
"No!"
"Silence in the stone jug!" said the Skeleton.
There was complete silence.
"Listen to me!" said the _prevot_, in his hoarse voice. "There is no
means of doing the thing so long as the turnkey remains in the day-room
or the walking-yard. I have no knife, and there must be a few groans,
for the sneak will struggle."
"Well, what then?"
"Why, this. Pique-Vinaigre has promised to tell us to-day after dinner
his story of 'Gringalet and Cut-in-Half.' It rains, and we shall all
come here, and the sneak will come and sit down there in the corner, as
he always does. We'll give Pique-Vinaigre some sous that he may begin
his tale. It will be dinner-time in the gaol; the turnkey will see us
quietly employed in listening to the miraculous mystery of 'Gringalet
and Cut-in-Half,' and will, suspecting no harm, make off to the tap. As
soon as he has left the yard we shall have a quarter of an hour to
ourselves, and the nose will be cold meat before the turnkey can return.
I will undertake it,--I who have done for stouter fellows in my day; and
mind, I'll have no assistance!"
"Mind your eye!" cried Cardillac; "and what about the _huissier_ who
will always come for a gossip amongst us at dinner-time? If he comes
into the room to listen to Pique-Vinaigre, and sees Germain done for, he
will cry out for help. He's not one of us, the _huissier_,--he's in a
private cell, and we should mistrust him."
"Is there a _huissier_ here?" said Frank, the victim as we know of a
breach of trust, by Maitre Boulard. "Is there a _huissier_ here?" he
repeated, with astonishment, "and what is his name?"
"Boulard," replied Cardillac.
"The very man! The identical villain!" cried Frank, clenching his fists.
"It is he who has stolen my savings!"
"The _huissier_?" inquired the _prevot_.
"Yes, seven hundred francs of mine."
"You know him? And has he seen you?" inquired the Skeleton.
"I have seen him, worse luck! But for him I should not be here."
These regrets sounded ill in the Skeleton's ears, and he fixed his
malignant eyes steadfastly on Frank, who replied to several of his
comrade's questions. Then stooping towards the Gros-Boiteux, he said, in
a low voice:
"This is a fresh 'un who might tell the turnkey."
"No, I'll answer for his not informing against any one; yet still he has
his scruples about going the whole hog, and he might aid Germain in
defending himself. It would be best to get him out of the yard."
"I'll do it," said the Skeleton; and then aloud he said, "I say, Frank,
won't you pitch into this thief of a lawyer?"
"Won't I, that's all!"
"Well, he's coming, and so look out."
"I'm ready, and he shall bear my marks!"
"We shall have a row, and they will send the _huissier_ to his room and
Frank to the black-hole," said the Skeleton, in an undertone, to the
Gros-Boiteux; "we shall thus get rid of both."
"What a lucky pitch! Why, this Skeleton is a prime minister!" said the
Boiteux, admiringly; and then he added, in a loud tone, "I say, shall we
tell Pique-Vinaigre that we shall avail ourselves of his history to come
over the turnkey and throttle the sneak?"
"By no means; Pique-Vinaigre is too soft and too cowardly. If he was up
to the thing he wouldn't tell the story, but when the job is done and
over he'll bear his share."
The dinner-bell sounded at this moment.
"To your puddings, dogs!" said the Skeleton; "Pique-Vinaigre and Germain
will soon be in the yard. Now mind your eyes, my boys! They call me
Dead-Alive, but the sneak is also dead-alive!"