“Absolutely none.”
“Good.”
“They are under my own eye.”
“Very good. It is not for a short time only, but for some months. One cannot hurry the people. Besides, we are not ready. The rifles we bought, the ammunition we must steal.”
“They are good rifles—they are English,” said the butcher.
“Yes; the English Government is full of chivalry. They are always ready to place it within the power of their enemies to be as well armed as themselves.”
The old gentleman laughed—a pleasant, cooing laugh. He invariably encouraged humour, this genial philanthropist.
“At last Friday's meeting,” Lerac said shortly, “we enrolled forty new members. We now number four hundred and two in our arrondissement alone.”
“Good,” muttered the Citizen Morot, without enthusiasm.
“And four hundred hardy companions they are.”