The prisoner at last spoke.
"How can you expect me to write? My arms are tied."
"That is true; I beg your pardon," said Thénardier, "you are quite right;" and turning to Bigrenaille, he added, "Unfasten the gentleman's right arm."
Panchaud alias Printanier alias Bigrenaille obeyed Thénardier's orders, and when the prisoner's hand was free, Thénardier dipped the pen in the ink and handed it to him.
"Make up your mind, sir, that you are in our absolute power; no human interference can liberate you, and we should really be sorry to be forced to proceed to disagreeable extremities. I know neither your name nor your address, but I warn you that you will remain tied up here until the person commissioned to deliver the letter you are going to write has returned. Now be good enough to write."
"What?" the prisoner asked.
Thénardier began dictating: "My daughter."
The prisoner started, and raised his eyes to Thénardier,—
"Make it, 'My dear daughter,'" said Thénardier.
M. Leblanc obeyed.