She called Cranajour. The queer fellow came forward from the back store, where he had been loafing: he had a bewildered air.
"Cranajour," said Mother Toulouche, putting a sou in his hand, "hurry off and buy me an evening paper! Now be quick about it!... Don't forget.... Make a knot in your handkerchief to remind a stupid head!"
"Oh, don't be afraid, Mother Toulouche," declared Cranajour, "I shan't forget!" He nodded to big Ernestine, and vanished as by magic into the darkness, for night had fallen.
Scarcely had Cranajour gone, than a surly looking individual slipped into the store, not by the quay entrance, but through the back store, to which he had gained access by the dark passage leading to the rue de Harlay.
His collar was turned up as though he were cold; his cap was drawn well over his eyes, thus his face was almost entirely hidden.
Having barred the door on the quay side of the store, Mother Toulouche joined big Ernestine and the newcomer:
"Well, Nibet, anything fresh?" she asked.
Removing his cap and lowering his collar Nibet's crabbed visage glowered on the two women: it was the Dépôt warder right enough:
"Bad," he growled between his teeth: "Things are hot right at the Palais!"
"Things to worry about—to do with comrades committed for trial?" questioned big Ernestine.