"Good evening, Citizen Sabatier; you can tell me something. Was that aristocrat taken to the Abbaye this afternoon or where?"
"To the Abbaye."
"I was going to the prison to ask, then thought I might save myself a journey by coming here on my way. Wine, landlord—the best, and in these days the best is bad. You were not at the taking of this aristocrat, Sabatier?" and as he asked the question Bruslart seated himself.
"No. I had other business."
"It is a pity. Had you been there the affair would have been conducted with more order."
"I was there, Citizen Bruslart," said a man, thrusting forward his head truculently. "What is there to complain of?"
Bruslart looked at him, then leaned toward Sabatier and said in an audible aside—
"A new friend? I do not seem to remember him."
"Citizen Boissin, a worthy man," said Sabatier, shortly. He knew that the men in the wine shop were likely to follow his lead, and he was at a loss to know how to treat Lucien Bruslart to-night.
"Ay, Boissin, that's my name, and he asks you what you have to complain of?"