The passer-by cast a glance around him, saw no one, dared not peer into the black niche, and was greatly alarmed. He redoubled his pace.
This passer-by had reason to make haste, for a very few instants later, six men, who were marching separately and at some distance from each other, along the wall, and who might have been taken for a gray patrol, entered the Rue Plumet.
The first to arrive at the garden railing halted, and waited for the others; a second later, all six were reunited.
These men began to talk in a low voice.
“This is the place,” said one of them.
“Is there a cab [dog] in the garden?” asked another.
“I don’t know. In any case, I have fetched a ball that we’ll make him eat.”
“Have you some putty to break the pane with?”
“Yes.”
“The railing is old,” interpolated a fifth, who had the voice of a ventriloquist.