"Oh, they are all right!" said Javert.
By this time the police had noticed the drunken man sleeping behind the door, and shook him; he woke up and stammered,—
"Is it all over, Jondrette?"
"Yes," Javert answered.
The six bound bandits were standing together, with their spectral faces, three daubed with black, and three masked.
"Keep on your masks," said Javert
And, passing them in review, like a Frederick II. at a Potsdam parade, he said to the three "sweeps,"—
"Good-day, Bigrenaille." "Good-day, Brujon." "Good-day, Deux Milliards."
Then turning to the three masks he said to the man with the pole-axe, "Good-day, Gueulemer," and to the man with the cudgel, "Good-day, Babet," and to the ventriloquist, "Here's luck, Claquesous!"
At this moment he noticed the prisoner, who had not said a word since the arrival of the police, and held his head down.