“In the cellar?” asked Prudence.
“Silence!” cried Jacqueline.
“Yes, but to get the business transferred, we must have the consent of the police authorities,” Paccard objected.
“We shall have it,” said Trompe-la-Mort. “Don’t meddle in what does not concern you.”
Jacqueline looked at her nephew, and was struck by the alteration in his face, visible through the stern mask under which the strong man generally hid his feelings.
“You, child,” said he to Prudence Servien, “will receive from my aunt the seven hundred and fifty thousand francs ——”
“Seven hundred and thirty,” said Paccard.
“Very good, seven hundred and thirty then,” said Jacques Collin. “You must return this evening under some pretext to Madame Lucien’s house.
Get out on the roof through the skylight; get down the chimney into your miss’ess’ room, and hide the packet she had made of the money in the mattress ——”
“And why not by the door?” asked Prudence Servien.
“Idiot! there are seals on everything,” replied Jacques Collin. “In a few days the inventory will be taken, and you will be innocent of the theft.”
“Good for the boss!” cried Paccard. “That is really kind!”
“Stop, coachman!” cried Jacques Collin’s powerful voice.
The coach was close to the stand by the Jardin des Plantes.
“Be off, young ‘uns,” said Jacques Collin, “and do nothing silly!
Be on the Pont des Arts this afternoon at five, and my aunt will let you know if there are any orders to the contrary.
— We must be prepared for everything,” he whispered to his aunt. “To-morrow,” he went on, “Jacqueline will tell you how to dig up the gold without any risk.
It is a ticklish job ——”
Paccard and Prudence jumped out on to the King’s highway, as happy as reprieved thieves.
“What a good fellow the boss is!” said Paccard.
“He would be the king of men if he were not so rough on women.”
“Oh, yes! He is a sweet creature,” said Paccard. “Did you see how he kicked me?
Well, we deserved to be sent to old Nick; for, after all, we got him into this scrape.”
“If only he does not drag us into some dirty job, and get us packed off to the hulks yet,” said the wily Prudence.
“Not he!
If he had that in his head, he would tell us; you don’t know him.
— He has provided handsomely for you.
Here we are, citizens at large!
Oh, when that man takes a fancy to you, he has not his match for good-nature.”
“Now, my jewel,” said Jacques Collin to his aunt, “you must take la Gonore in hand; she must be humbugged. Five days hence she will be taken into custody, and a hundred and fifty thousand francs will be found in her rooms, the remains of a share from the robbery and murder of the old Crottat couple, the notary’s father and mother.”
“She will get five years in the Madelonnettes,” said Jacqueline.
“That’s about it,” said the nephew. “This will be a reason for old Nourrisson to get rid of her house; she cannot manage it herself, and a manager to suit is not to be found every day.
You can arrange all that.
We shall have a sharp eye there.
— But all these three things are secondary to the business I have undertaken with regard to our letters.
So unrip your gown and give me the samples of the goods.
Where are the three packets?”
“At la Rousse’s, of course.”
“Coachman,” cried Jacques Collin, “go back to the Palais de Justice, and look sharp ——
“I promised to be quick, and I have been gone half an hour; that is too much.
— Stay at la Rousse’s, and give the sealed parcels to the office clerk, who will come and ask for Madame de Saint–Esteve; the de will be the password. He will say to you,‘Madame, I have come from the public prosecutor for the things you know of.’
Stand waiting outside the door, staring about at what is going on in the Flower–Market, so as not to arouse Prelard’s suspicions.
As soon as you have given up the letters, you can start Paccard and Prudence.”
“I see what you are at,” said Jacqueline; “you mean to step into Bibi–Lupin’s shoes.
That boy’s death has turned your brain.”
“And there is Theodore, who was just going to have his hair cropped to be scragged at four this afternoon!” cried Jacques Collin.
“Well, it is a notion!
We shall end our days as honest folks in a fine property and a delightful climate — in Touraine.”
“What was to become of me?
Lucien has taken my soul with him, and all my joy in life. I have thirty years before me to be sick of life in, and I have no heart left.