"Oh, no! nothing at all. First to Rue Neuve-Vivienne—only two steps; then to his house on Rue Caumartin, and from there to the Maison-Dorée. It's all right in the quarter."
Jean Ficelle's eyes twinkled when he learned that Sans-Cravate was going to Rue Neuve-Vivienne, and he made haste to say:
"I have got to go much farther than that—Faubourg Saint-Honoré—and I ain't paid in advance."
"And I, too," said Paul, placing his crochets behind a porte cochère, "have got a long way to go, and I'm afraid it will take a long while."
"Where are you going?" asked Jean Ficelle.
"The gentleman who employed me told me not to talk; so it doesn't seem to me that I ought to tell where he sends me."
"Bah! you sneak!" muttered Jean, with a shrug.
"Well, my friends," said Sans-Cravate, as he donned his fur cap, "the day ends well. I don't know whether you'll be paid as generously as me; but, at all events, I'll treat; let's have supper together to-night at my regular little wine shop on Rue Saint-Lazare. Does that hit you?"
"It does me," replied Jean Ficelle; "we'll meet there to-night, then; it's agreed."
"I can't," said Paul; "I have business this evening; I must go to see a certain person, a long way from here, and——"