Part 53 (2/2)
”Why so, monsieur?”
”Why, because, after all, it's a comrade!”
”But he's betrayed--a traitor he is!”
”What do we know about it?”
The Beadle nodded; reflected.
”What does anyone know about it?” he said at last....
”Why, when the comrades told us, weren't they surprised, one and all?
Nibet, Toulouche, even Mimile--they didn't hesitate, not one of them!...
Well then, old 'un, as all the pals were of one mind, why hesitate?
What's the use of discussing!... but, between you and me, I don't relish it either--it bothers me to go for a pal!...”
Just then the tempest redoubled its fury: it seemed to the cowering men as though all the devils of the storm were galloping down the wind.
Somewhere there was a moon, for scurrying clouds were dancing a witches'
saraband across a faintly clearer sky. The unseen moon was mastering the obscurity of this midnight hour.
By now, the two sinister beings were nearing the rue du Docteur-Blanche.
They were pa.s.sing a garden, in which tall poplars, caught by the squall, took fantastic shapes: they were nightmare trees, terrifyingly strange.
”No more to be said,” remarked the Beadle. ”The scene is set!... Where is the meeting place?”
”A hundred yards from there--a little before the corner of the boulevard Montmorency....”
”Good! And the trap?”
”It waits for us a little further off.”
”Who's aboard it?”
”Mimile.”
”That's good.”
The two men were now half-way along rue Raffet. The watch had begun.
Gripped by the cold they waited in silence.... The minutes pa.s.sed slowly, slowly, in the deserted street ... The Beard put his hand on the Beadle's shoulder.... A vague sound could be heard in the distance: the steps could be distinguished; some pedestrian was coming up the rue Raffet in their direction.
”It is he!” whispered the Beadle.
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