The turnkey suddenly turned round so abruptly that the dog barked at him.
He was as pale as death.
"Neither turn round nor turn pale about it," said the patriot, "but finish your soup quietly. I am not an agent, friend. Let me once enter the Conciergerie, install me in your situation, give me the keys, and to-morrow I will count out to you fifty thousand francs in gold."
"Is all this true?"
"Well, you have excellent security,—my head."
The turnkey considered for some seconds.
"Come," said the patriot, who could see him in the glass, "do not indulge in meditations of evil. If you denounce me, as you will only have done your duty, you will not receive a sou from the Republic; if you serve me, and on the contrary are deficient in this same duty to the Republic, as it is unjust in this world to do anything for nothing, I will give you fifty thousand francs."
"I understand perfectly," said the turnkey. "I have every inducement to do what you require, but I fear the results—"
"The results! And what have you to fear? I will not denounce you; very far from it."
"No doubt."