Prudence flung her arms round Trompe-la-Mort’s neck and hugged him; but the boss flung her off with a sharp blow, showing his extraordinary strength, and but for Paccard, the girl’s head would have struck and broken the coach window.
“Paws off! I don’t like such ways,” said the boss stiffly. “It is disrespectful to me.”
“He is right, child,” said Paccard. “Why, you see, it is as though the boss had made you a present of a hundred thousand francs. The shop is worth that. It is on the Boulevard, opposite the Gymnase. The people come out of the theatre——”
“I will do more,” said Trompe-la-Mort; “I will buy the house.”
“And in six years we shall be millionaires,” cried Paccard.
Tired of being interrupted, Trompe-la-Mort gave Paccard’s shin a kick hard enough to break it; but the man’s tendons were of india-rubber, and his bones of wrought iron.
“All right, boss, mum it is,” said he.
“Do you think I am cramming you with lies?” said Jacques Collin, perceiving that Paccard had had a few drops too much. “Well, listen. In the cellar of that house there are two hundred and fifty thousand francs in gold——”
Again silence reigned in the coach.
“The coin is in a very hard bed of masonry. It must be got out, and you have only three nights to do it in. Jacqueline will help you.—A hundred thousand francs will buy up the business, fifty thousand will pay for the house; leave the remainder.”