"Ah! ah!" says he, "I forget to turn it; and perhaps the sand has all run through a long time ago."
Then, looking at the moon as it struggled through a heavy black cloud which seemed to hang over Notre-Dame, he said: "It is nine o'clock. If she comes, she will come, as usual, in an hour or an hour and a half; then there will be time for all."
At this moment a noise was heard on the bridge. Réné applied his ear to the orifice of a long tube, the other end of which reached down the street, terminating in a heraldic viper-head.
"No," he said, "it is neither she nor they; it is men's footsteps, and they stop at my door—they are coming here."
And three sharp knocks were heard at the door.
Réné hurried downstairs and put his ear against the door, without opening it.
The three sharp blows were repeated.
"Who's there?" asked Maître Réné.
"Must we mention our names?" inquired a voice.
"It is indispensable," replied Réné.