“What can I do for you, sir?” said Reteau, trembling.
“You are M. Reteau?” asked the young man.
“Yes, sir.”
“Journalist, and author of this article?” said the visitor, drawing the new number from his pocket.
“Not exactly the author, but the publisher,” said Reteau.
“Very well, that comes to the same thing; for if you had not the audacity to write it, you have had the baseness to give it publicity. I say baseness, for, as I am a gentleman, I wish to keep within bounds even with you. If I expressed all I think, I should say that he who wrote this article is infamous, and that he who published it is a villain!”
“Monsieur!” said Reteau, growing pale.
“Now listen,” continued the young man; “you have received one payment in money, now you shall have another in caning.”
“Oh!” cried Reteau, “we will see about that.”
“Yes, we will see,” said the young man, advancing towards him; but Reteau was used to these sort of affairs, and knew the conveniences of his own house. Turning quickly round, he gained a door which shut after him, and which opened into a passage leading to a gate, through which there was an exit into the Rue Vieux Augustins. Once there, he was safe; for in this gate the key was always left, and he could lock it behind him.