It will be remembered that he had Marius’ pass-key.
He had arrived just in the nick of time.
The terrified ruffians flung themselves on the arms which they had abandoned in all the corners at the moment of flight.
In less than a second, these seven men, horrible to behold, had grouped themselves in an attitude of defence, one with his meat-axe, another with his key, another with his bludgeon, the rest with shears, pincers, and hammers. Thenardier had his knife in his fist.
The Thenardier woman snatched up an enormous paving-stone which lay in the angle of the window and served her daughters as an ottoman.
Javert put on his hat again, and advanced a couple of paces into the room, with arms folded, his cane under one arm, his sword in its sheath.
“Halt there,” said he. “You shall not go out by the window, you shall go through the door.
It’s less unhealthy.
There are seven of you, there are fifteen of us.
Don’t let’s fall to collaring each other like men of Auvergne.”
Bigrenaille drew out a pistol which he had kept concealed under his blouse, and put it in Thenardier’s hand, whispering in the latter’s ear:—
“It’s Javert.
I don’t dare fire at that man.
Do you dare?” “Parbleu!” replied Thenardier.
“Well, then, fire.”
Thenardier took the pistol and aimed at Javert.
Javert, who was only three paces from him, stared intently at him and contented himself with saying:—
“Come now, don’t fire.
You’ll miss fire.”
Thenardier pulled the trigger.
The pistol missed fire.
“Didn’t I tell you so!” ejaculated Javert.
Bigrenaille flung his bludgeon at Javert’s feet.
“You’re the emperor of the fiends!
I surrender.”
“And you?” Javert asked the rest of the ruffians.
They replied:— “So do we.”
Javert began again calmly:—
“That’s right, that’s good, I said so, you are nice fellows.”
“I only ask one thing,” said Bigrenaille, “and that is, that I may not be denied tobacco while I am in confinement.”
“Granted,” said Javert.
And turning round and calling behind him:—
“Come in now!”
A squad of policemen, sword in hand, and agents armed with bludgeons and cudgels, rushed in at Javert’s summons.
They pinioned the ruffians.
This throng of men, sparely lighted by the single candle, filled the den with shadows.
“Handcuff them all!” shouted Javert.
“Come on!” cried a voice which was not the voice of a man, but of which no one would ever have said: “It is a woman’s voice.”
The Thenardier woman had entrenched herself in one of the angles of the window, and it was she who had just given vent to this roar.
The policemen and agents recoiled.
She had thrown off her shawl, but retained her bonnet; her husband, who was crouching behind her, was almost hidden under the discarded shawl, and she was shielding him with her body, as she elevated the paving-stone above her head with the gesture of a giantess on the point of hurling a rock.
“Beware!” she shouted.
All crowded back towards the corridor.
A broad open space was cleared in the middle of the garret.
The Thenardier woman cast a glance at the ruffians who had allowed themselves to be pinioned, and muttered in hoarse and guttural accents:—
“The cowards!”
Javert smiled, and advanced across the open space which the Thenardier was devouring with her eyes.
“Don’t come near me,” she cried, “or I’ll crush you.”
“What a grenadier!” ejaculated Javert; “you’ve got a beard like a man, mother, but I have claws like a woman.”
And he continued to advance.