"He lives," he said, "rue du Marché, No. 22; the other door is in an alley running parallel with the rue du Marché."
Maître Hyacinthe released his hold on the belt, which Courtin seized with a deep sigh of satisfaction. But almost at the same instant he raised his head with a terrified look.
"What is it?" asked Monsieur Hyacinthe.
"I heard steps," said the farmer, his face convulsed.
"No, no," said the Jew, "I heard nothing. I've been a fool to give you that money."
"Why?" said Courtin, clasping the belt to his breast as if afraid the other might snatch it back.
"Because it seems to double your fears."
With a rapid movement Courtin clutched his companion's arm.
"What is the matter?" asked Monsieur Hyacinthe again, beginning to feel uneasy.
"I tell you I hear steps overhead!" said Courtin, looking up to the dark and gloomy space above them.