"Have you looked through those of day after to-morrow?"
"I have, both of the day after to-morrow and the day following that. In fact, I have gone over all the warrants for all the prisoners, but still no Bonnefoi, Charles de, ex-noble."
"Lucky for Bonnefoi!"
"But unlucky for me. I shall be discharged if I let these go out this way."
"I tell you what to do," said Clément, "take one from the day after to-morrow. They are in too great a hurry in the office these days to compare the lists; they just see if the number tallies, and send off the warrants to the keepers of the various prisons."
"But if I do that I shall still be one short, day after to-morrow."
"No you will not," replied the facile Clément; "you just take one from the day following that, and so on and so forth. You merely keep the thing going. Your lists and warrants will agree as to number every day. No question arises, and the only result is that some fellow gets shoved along under the national razor just twenty-four hours earlier than he would have, had not some one,—I won't say named Hanneton,—but some one who shall be nameless, made a little blunder."
"I rather dislike to do such a thing, Clément."
"Oh, Hanneton, my boy, I always said you were slow. What's twenty-four hours to a man who has got to die anyway? and then think of Bonnefoi; he'll be overlooked for a long time. Some of those fellows among the aristocracy have been in prison two or three years already. They get to like it and lead quite a jolly life there. I am told they have fine times in some of the prisons. Bonnefoi will be wondering why they don't come to shave him, but he won't say anything. Bonnefoi won't peep. You can count on his silence."
"But my friend Clément, it will be discovered some day."