"Any news in Paris?"
"I was just about to ask you that very question."
"That means that there is none," observed Démocharès, with a profound sigh. "Ah, these are hard times! There is nothing going on,—no conspiracies, and no crime at all! What cowardly wretches these Huguenots are! Our profession has a decided grievance against them, Monsieur de Braguelonne!"
"No, no!" replied Monsieur de Braguelonne, emphatically. "No, governments change, but the police remains."
"Nevertheless," retorted Monsieur de Mouchy, bitterly, "see what the result has been of our descent upon the main army of the Reformers in the Rue des Marais. By surprising them at table in the midst of their dinner, we hoped to take them in the act of eating pork in the guise of the paschal lamb, as you had told us; but the only result of that magnificent expedition was one poor little larded chicken. Can such exploits as that reflect much credit upon your organization, Monsieur le Lieutenant de Police?"
"One can't always succeed," said Monsieur de Braguelonne. "Were you any more fortunate yourself, in the matter of the advocate of Place Maubert,—Trouillard, was it not? Yet you expected great things of it."
"I admit it," said Démocharès, piteously.
"You expected to prove as clearly as the day," continued Monsieur de Braguelonne, "that this Trouillard had abandoned his two daughters to the tender mercies of his fellow-enthusiasts after a frightful orgy; but, behold! the witnesses whom you had bought at such a high price suddenly retracted everything and gave you the lie."
"The traitors!" muttered De Mouchy.
"More than that," said the lieutenant, pitilessly pursuing his advantage, "I received reports from various sources, all of which went to show that the virtue of the two young girls was without a stain."