Clubin had been absent from the Jean Auberge all the evening of Tuesday. On the Wednesday night he was absent again.
In the dusk of that evening, two strangers penetrated into the mazes of the Ruelle Coutanchez. They stopped in front of the Jacressade. One of them knocked at the window; the door of the shop opened, and they entered. The woman with the wooden leg met them with the smile which she reserved for respectable citizens. There was a candle on the table.
The strangers were, in fact, respectable citizens. The one who had knocked said, “Good-day, mistress. I have come for that affair.”
The woman with the wooden leg smiled again, and went out by the back-door leading to the courtyard, and where the well was. A moment afterwards the back-door was opened again, and a man stood in the doorway. He wore a cap and a blouse. It was easy to see the shape of something under his blouse. He had bits of old straw in his clothes, and looked as if he had just been aroused from sleep.
He advanced and exchanged glances with the strangers. The man in the blouse looked puzzled, but cunning; he said—
“You are the gunsmith?”
The one who had tapped at the window replied—
“Yes; you are the man from Paris?”
“Known as Redskin. Yes.”
“Show me the thing.”