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Robeckal raised his right hand, but at the same moment the athlete stretched him on the ground with a blow of his fist; he could thank his stars that Girdel had not struck him with his full force, or else Robeckal would never have got up again.
"If it were only not too much," said Rolla, as Louison, groaning loudly, sank backward and closed her eyes. "Have no fear; I know my methods," laughed Robeckal. "I am not so foolish as to kill the little one before we have the vicomte's money in our hands. She will sleep a few hours, and wake up tamed. Come, let us put her on the sofa and leave her alone."
Robeckal, in the meantime, had almost died of strangulation, for Fanfaro's fingers pressed his throat together; and when he was asked if he intended to answer, he could only nod with his head. "Where is Louison?" asked Fanfaro, in a voice of thunder. "No. 16 Rue de Belleville." "Alone?" "I do not know."
Robeckal sprang out, and taking the unconscious Louison in his arms, he carried her up the stairs of a small house, and pulled the bell, while the carriage rolled on. "Ah, here you are; let me see the chicken!" With these words Rolla received her comrade. She put the lamp close to Louison's face, and then said: "Your Talizac hasn't got bad taste; the little one is handsome."
"Silence, minx!" exclaimed Robeckal roughly, and pulling a cloth out of his pocket he held it in front of Louison's face. "Ah, now you are getting tame," he mockingly laughed, as the young girl, moaning softly, fell back in the cushions. The carriage hurried along and finally stopped in an obscure street of the Belleville Quarter.
Girdel played with his weights, Rolla swallowed stones and pigeons, Robeckal knives and swords, and Caillette danced charmingly on the tight-rope.
"Please tell me quickly what you want," cried Louison, hurriedly. "I must go out, and have no time to lose." "You might offer me a chair, anyway," growled Robeckal, looking steadily at the handsome girl. "I told you before I am in a hurry," replied Louison, coldly; "therefore please do not delay me unnecessarily."
A little while ago a man, whom I can trust, informed me that Fanfaro is going to play a part in the conspiracy against the government which I have already spoken to you about." "So much the better; but can he be captured in such a way that there will be no outlet for him?" "I hope so." "Who gave you this information?" asked the marquis, after Simon had told him all that Robeckal had overheard.
Notwithstanding these promises, Robeckal felt a cold shudder run down his back when he heard the death sentence, and when he was taken back to jail again he impatiently awaited further developments. He thought it very strange that he should be left to his fate, and when hour after hour had passed and neither Simon nor any one else came to his cell, he began to feel seriously uneasy.
Robeckal and Simon were smart enough to keep in the background. The brigadier, a veteran soldier, knocked loudly at the house-door, and soon the host appeared and asked what was the matter. "Open in the name of the king," cried the brigadier impatiently. "Policemen, oh my God!" groaned Schwan, more dead than alive. "There must be a mistake here."
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