We then went slowly towards the Toison d'Or in the same order on which we had come up the Rue St. Martin, my heart full of strange misgivings at Lafin's presence in the street. The sun had already whitened the gables of the houses, but so narrow was the passage that it seemed as if it must always be in shadow. There were a few people stirring—one or two street urchins, who flung gibes at Pantin, but gave me a wide berth; half a dozen women, in whose faces sin and want had set their seals, and a man or two of the worst class. Beyond the high, dead wall which closed in the passage I could now see the tops of some trees, and judged from this that we were almost upon the walls of Paris, and in this, as it turned out, I was right. At last I came opposite the Toison d'Or. The gate leading into the little court was shut, and so was every window facing the street. The signboard was swinging sadly over the closed door, and at the first glance it looked as if the house was deserted. For a moment the thought struck me to knock boldly at the door, and when it was opened to force my way in and trust to luck for the rest, but I was cooled on the instant when I thought what failure meant. I would trust as little to chance as possible. I passed slowly on, and found that the Toison d'Or joined on to another, but much smaller, house which had its bound set to it by the wall that crossed the street. The sash of a window on the top story of this house was up, and as I came up to it the front door swung open and a man stood on the steps and looked me full in the face. As my glance passed him, I saw that the door opened into a room that was used apparently as a shop for all kinds of miscellaneous articles, and the man himself would have stood well for the picture of a thieves' fence, which, indeed, he was.
'A good morning, captain,' he said. 'Will you buy—or have you come to sell?' he asked, dropping his voice.
As he spoke, Pantin came up and began to importune the man from a safe distance to purchase his wares, but beyond a curse had no further attention paid to him, and with a disappointed air he went slowly back towards the Toison d'Or. It flashed upon me that something had fallen my way. 'I have come to buy compère,' I answered, and, stepping into the shop, began to examine a few cast-off doublets, and flung them aside, demanding one on which the gold lace was good. A woman joined the man at this time, and whilst they were rummaging amongst their stores I hastily ran over in my mind the plan I had formed. If I could get a lodging here I would be in a position to watch who came and went from the house and strike my blow with deliberation and certainty. So at last when the doublet was shown to me, though the price was exorbitant I paid it without demur, and on the man asking if it should be sent to my lodging, I pretended to hesitate for a moment, and then explaining that as I had just come to Paris, and was in search of a lodging, I would take the doublet with me.
'Monsieur must have scaled the city walls last night, then?' the man said with a sly look.
'Exactly,' I answered.
The woman, however, here cut in and explained that if it was a lodging I needed they could accommodate me.
'All the more if you buy as well as you do now, captain,' said the man.
'I will sell you as cheap as you want besides,' I answered, 'but let me see the rooms.'
'There is but one room, monsieur,' answered the woman, 'but it is large and furnished,' and then she led me up the stairway. The room was certainly large beyond the ordinary, but I was disappointed beyond measure at finding that it was at the back of the house and would prevent me from watching who came in and out of the Toison d'Or. I objected to the situation, saying that I wanted a room overlooking the street.
'There is none,' she answered shortly, 'but if monsieur desires to look on the street he may do so from the window at the end of this passage.'