"And your men believe that it is a question of a bet?"
"They appear to believe it, at least, and we cannot ask more."
"Then it is well understood, captain. You and your people are drunk. You push me. I fall between the regent and him who has his arm. I separate them. You seize on him and gag him, and at a whistle the carriage arrives, while Simiane and Ravanne are held with pistols at their throats."
"But," answered the coalheaver, in a low voice, "if he declares his name."
The man in the cloak replied, in a still lower tone, "In conspiracies there are no half measures. If he declares himself, you must kill him."
"Peste!" said the coalheaver; "let us try to prevent his doing so."
There was no reply, and all was again silent. A quarter of an hour passed, and then the center windows were lighted up.
"Ah! ah! there is something new," they both exclaimed together.
At this moment they heard the step of a man, who came from the Rue St. Honore, and who was preparing to go the whole length of the street.
The coalheaver muttered a terrible oath; however, the man came on, but whether the darkness sufficed to frighten him, or whether he saw something suspicious moving there, it was evident that he experienced some fear. As he reached the Hotel St. Clare, employing that old ruse of cowards who wish to appear brave, he began to sing; but as he advanced, his voice trembled, and though the innocence of the song proved the serenity of his heart, on arriving opposite the passage he began to cough, which, as we know, in the gamut of terror, indicates a greater degree of fear than singing. Seeing, however, that nothing moved round him, he took courage, and, in a voice more in harmony with his present situation than with the sense of the words, he began—