They all turned and stared at the tall lank youth, and his sullen face had an ugly look, though it was of the pallor of death.
“I have drawn the lot to strike,” he said, scowling. “I have never killed—and I do not like it——”
Gavroche laughed:
“Afraid to kill—even an old woman!” he sneered.
A dark look came to Hiéne’s sombre eyes:
“And yet not afraid,” said he. “But ashamed—to kill an old woman.... There is a scoundrel I know that I am not afraid to kill.”
Gavroche shrugged his shoulders:
“And this for an Overman!... Tshah!” He turned to the others: “I had foreseen this,” he said. “I will do the masterwork.” And he added with contempt: “He shall stand at the door where the girl sleeps—for the old fool locks up the girl at night—but the moment we leave, this fellow that fears to kill a woman must unlock the door. Suspicion will fall on the girl.” He turned again to the scowling Hiéne. “Hast thou the courage to throw suspicion, comrade?” he sneered.
The sullen young workman made no sign.
One of the others moved uneasily: