"That is not all: in the Rue du Temple, No. 17, there lives a woman named Burette, who lends money on deposit, who, they say, is a private receiver of stolen goods on your account."
"What would you have me do, M. Narcisse? The world is so slanderous,—says so many wicked things! Once again, I say, it is necessary for me to mix with as many rogues as possible, that I even seem one of themselves—so much the worse for them—in order that they may not have any suspicions; but it cuts me to the heart to imitate them,—cuts me to the heart. I must, indeed, be devoted to the service, to give myself up to such a thing as that."
"Poor, dear man! I pity you with all my soul!"
"You are laughing at me, M. Narcisse; but, if that was believed, why has there not been a search made at Mother Burette's and in my house?"
"You know well enough,—that we might not alarm the ruffians, whom, for so long a time, you have promised to deliver into our hands."
"And I am now about to deliver them, M. Narcisse; before an hour you will have them all handcuffed, and that without much trouble, for there are three women. As to Barbillon and Nicholas Martial, they are as savage as tigers, but as cowardly as pullets."
"Tigers or pullets," said Narcisse, half opening his long frock coat, and showing the butts of two pistols in the pockets of his trousers, "I have wherewithal here for them."
"You will do well to have two of your men with you, M. Narcisse. When they see themselves caught, the most cowardly sometimes show fight."
"I shall station two of my men in the small parlour at the entrance, by the side of the room into which you are to introduce the jewel-matcher. At the first cry, I shall appear at one door, and my two men at the other."
"You must be speedy, then, for I expect the gang here every moment, M. Narcisse."