"Well," Rateau rejoined, and an expression of malicious cunning distorted his ugly face. "I can tell you."
"What do you mean?"
"I lodge in an empty warehouse over yonder," Rateau went on eagerly, and pointed in the direction where Chauvelin's spare figure had disappeared awhile ago. "The floor above is inhabited by Mother Théot, the witch. You know her, citizen?"
"Yes, yes! I thought she had been sent to the guillotine along with——"
"She was let out of prison, and has been doing some of citizen Chauvelin's spying for him."
Barras frowned. This was none of his business, and the dirty coalheaver inspired him with an unpleasant sense of loathing.
"To the point, citizen!" he said curtly.
"Citizen Chauvelin has a dozen or more soldiers under his command, in that house," Rateau went on with a leer. "They are trained troops of the National Guard——"
"How do you know?" Barras broke in harshly.
"Pardi!" was the coalheaver's dry reply. "I clean their boots for them."