"By the way, Nicholas is here."
"So Micou told me when he made a lament that Nicholas was putting the screw on—an old hunks! Why, what else were receivers made for?"
"Here is the Skeleton," said Cardillac, as the prévôt appeared at the door of the room.
"Young 'un, come forward," said the Skeleton to the Gros-Boiteux.
"Here I am," he replied, going into the apartment, accompanied by Frank, whose arm he held.
During the conversation between the Gros-Boiteux, Frank, and Cardillac, Barbillon had been, by order of the prévôt, to select twelve or fifteen of the choicest prisoners, who (in order to avoid the suspicions of the turnkey) had come separately into the day-room. The other détenus had remained in the yard, and some of them, by Barbillon's advice, had appeared to be disputing, in order to take off the attention of the turnkey from the room in which were now assembled the Skeleton, Barbillon, Nicholas, Frank, Cardillac, the Gros-Boiteux, and some fifteen other prisoners, all awaiting with impatient curiosity until the prévôt should open the business.
Barbillon, charged with the look-out, placed himself near the door. The Skeleton, taking his pipe from his mouth, said to the Gros-Boiteux:
"Do you know a slim young man named Germain, with blue eyes, brown hair, and the look of a noodle?"
"What! Is Germain here?" inquired the Gros-Boiteux, with surprise, hate, and anger in his looks.
"What, then, you know him?" said the Skeleton.