"Yes, that is the bell of the trap," the proprietor said, following our glance. "Customers do not know where it rings from. And if I am not at liberty to open, I drop my brass yardstick on the floor—But they told you that, doubtless, monsieur?" he added, regarding M. Étienne again a little uneasily.
"They told me something else I had near forgotten," M. Étienne answered, and, drawing a crown in the air, gave the password, "For the Cause."
"For the King," the shopkeeper made instant rejoinder, drawing in the air in his turn a letter C and the numeral X.
M. Étienne laid a gold piece on the counter, and if the shopkeeper had felt any doubts of this well-dressed gallant who wore no hat, they vanished in its radiance.
"And now, my friend, let us out into the street and forget our faces."
The man took up his candle to light us to the door.
"Perhaps it would not trouble monsieur to say a word for me over there?" he suggested, pointing in the direction of the tunnel. "M. le Duc has every confidence in me. Still, it would do no harm if monsieur should mention how quickly I let him out."
"When I see him, I will surely mention it," M. Étienne promised him. "Continue to be vigilant to-night, my friend. There is another man to come."
Followed by the little bourgeois's thanks and adieus, we walked out into the sweet open air. As soon as his door was shut again, we took to our heels, nor stopped running till we had put half a dozen streets between us and the mouth of the tunnel. Then we walked along in breathless silence.
Presently M. Étienne cried out: