"On to your nerves, I imagine, citizen," retorted Chauvelin with a laugh; "for my part I feel as warm and comfortable as on a lovely day in June."
"Hark! Who goes there?" broke in the other man abruptly, as a solitary moving form detached itself from the surrounding inky blackness and the sound of measured footsteps broke the silence of the night.
"Quite in order, citizen!" was the prompt reply.
The shadowy form came a step or two further forward.
"Is it you, citizen Fleury?" queried Chauvelin.
"Himself, citizen," replied the other.
The men had spoken in a whisper. Fleury now placed his hand on Chauvelin's arm.
"We had best not stand so close to the tavern," he said, "the night hawks are already about and we don't want to scare them."
He led the others up the yard, then into a very narrow passage which lay between Louise Adet's house and the Rat Mort and was bordered by the high walls of the houses on either side.
"This is a blind alley," he whispered. "We have the wall of Le Bouffay in front of us: the wall of the Rat Mort is on one side and the house of the citizeness Adet on the other. We can talk here undisturbed."