"May we 'patter' before the 'mot?'" asked Rodolph.
"Most decidedly! She's true as steel, and is worth her weight in gold to watch for us, to get information or impressions of keys, to conceal stolen goods or sell them,—nothing comes amiss to her. She is a first-rate manager. Good Finette!" added the robber, extending his hand to the horrid hag. "You can have no idea of the services she has done me. Take off your shawl, Finette, or you'll be cold when you go out; put it on the chair with your basket."
The Chouette took off her shawl.
In spite of his presence of mind, and the command which he had over himself, Rodolph could not quite conceal his surprise when he saw suspended by a ring of silver, from a thick chain of metal which hung round the old creature's neck, a small Saint Esprit in lapis lazuli, precisely resembling that which the son of Madame Georges had round his neck when he was carried off.
At this discovery, a sudden idea flashed across the mind of Rodolph. According to the Chourineur's statement, the Schoolmaster had escaped from the Bagne six months ago, and had since defied all search after him by disfiguring himself as he had now; and six months ago the husband of Madame Georges had disappeared from the Bagne. Rodolph surmised that, very possibly, the Schoolmaster was the husband of that unhappy lady. If this were so, he knew the fate of the son she lamented,—he possessed, too, some papers relative to the birth of the Goualeuse. Rodolph had, then, fresh motives for persevering in his projects, and, fortunately, his absence of mind was not observed by the Schoolmaster, who was busy helping the Chouette.
"Morbleu! What a pretty chain you have!" said Rodolph to the one-eyed woman.
"Pretty, and not dear," answered the old creature, laughing. "It is only a sham till my man can afford to give me a real one."
"That will depend on this gentleman, Finette. If our job comes off well, why then—"
"It is astonishing how well it is imitated," continued Rodolph. "And what is that little blue thing at the end?"
"It is a present from my man, which I shall wear until he gives me a 'ticker.' Isn't it, fourline?"