"Yes—quite. Bras Rouge is in it with us. He yesterday opened upon the woman with a letter which we carried to her—Barbillon and I—at her house, Boulevard St. Denis. He's an out-and-outer, Bras Rouge is! As he appears—and, I believe, is—well-to-do, nobody mistrusts him. To make the jewel-matcher bite he has already sold her a diamond worth four hundred francs. She'll not be afraid to come towards nightfall to his cabaret in the Champs Elysées. We shall be concealed there. Calabash may come with us, and take care of my boat along the side of the Seine. If we are obliged to carry her off, dead or alive, that will be a convenient conveyance, and one that leaves no traces. There's a plan for you! That beggar Bras Rouge is nothing but a good 'un!"
"I have always distrusted Bras Rouge," said the widow. "After that affair of the Rue Montmartre your brother Ambroise was sent to Toulon, and Bras Rouge was set at liberty."
"Because he's so downy there's no proofs against him. But betray others?—never!"
The widow shook her head, as if she were only half convinced of Bras Rouge's probity. After a few moments' reflection she said:
"I like much better that affair of the Quai de Billy for to-morrow or next day evening,—the drowning the two women. But Martial will be in the way as usual."
"Will not the devil's thunder ever rid us of him?" exclaimed Nicholas, half drunk, and striking his long knife savagely on the table.
"I have told mother that we had enough of him, and that we could not go on in this way," said Calabash. "As long as he is here we can do nothing with the children."
"I tell you that he is capable of one day denouncing us,—the villain!" said Nicholas. "You see, mother, if you would have believed me," he added, with a savage and significant air, "all would have been settled!"
"There are other means—"
"This is the best!" said the ruffian.