"You see that tall fellow?"
"Well?"
"He's a spy."
"Are you sure?"
"Not a fortnight back he pulled me down by the ear from the cornice of the Pont Royal where I was taking the air."
Enjolras hurriedly left the gamin and whispered a few words to a laborer from the wine-docks who was present. The laborer went out and returned almost immediately, followed by three others. The four men, four broad-shouldered porters, stationed themselves silently behind the table at which the man of the Rue des Billettes was seated, in evident readiness to fall upon him, and then Enjolras walked up to the man and asked him,—
"Who are you?"
At this sudden question the man started; he looked into the depths of Enjolras's candid eyeballs, and seemed to read his thoughts. He gave a smile, which was at once the most disdainful, energetic, and resolute possible, and answered, with a haughty gravity,—
"I see what you mean,—well, yes!"
"Are you a spy?"