"Oh!--as my neighbor the Marquis de Souday, or my friend Jean Oullier would say--'God wants her soul;' and I have at home just the bloodhound we need for the hunt."
"Bloodhound?"
"Yes, a regular bloodhound. There is something the matter with one of his front paws, but as soon as that is well I'll put a chain round his neck and he'll take us straight in the direction we want to go, without any trouble to us, except taking care he does not pull too hard on the chain and break it in his hurry to get there."
"Come, stop joking; these are serious matters."
"Joking! what do you take me for? Do you suppose I joke in presence of the fifty thousand francs you have promised me?--for you really did say fifty thousand, didn't you?"
"You ought to be sure of it, for you have made me tell you a score of times."
"I know that; but I am never tired of hearing it, any more than I shall be tired of fingering the louis when I get them."
"Deliver us the person we want, and you shall have them."
"Bless me! I hear those yellow-boys chinking in my ears,--dzing! dzing!"
"Meantime, tell me what you mean by a bloodhound."