2.M.8.14. IN WHICH A POLICE AGENT BESTOWS TWO FISTFULS ON A
LAWYER
ON arriving at No. 14, Rue de Pontoise, he ascended to the
first floor and inquired for the commissary of police.
"The commissary of police is not here," said a clerk; "but
there is an inspector who takes his place. Would you like to
speak to him? Are you in haste?"
"Yes," said Marius.
The clerk introduced him into the commissary's office.
There stood a tall man behind a grating, leaning against a
stove, and holding up with both hands the tails of a vast top-coat,
with three collars. His face was square, with a thin, firm
mouth, thick, gray, and very ferocious whiskers, and a look
that was enough to turn your pockets inside out. Of that
glance it might have been well said, not that it penetrated, but
that it searched.
This man's air was not much less ferocious nor less
terrible
than Jondrette's; the dog is, at times, no less terrible to meet
than the wolf.
"What do you want?" he said to Marius, without adding
"monsieur."
"Is this Monsieur le Commissaire de Police?"
"He is absent. I am here in his stead."
"The matter is very private."'
"Then speak."
"And great haste is required."
"Then speak quick."
This calm, abrupt man was both terrifying and reassuring
at one and the same time. He inspired fear and confidence.
Marius related the adventure to him: That a person with
whom he was not acquainted otherwise than by sight, was to
be inveigled into a trap that very evening; that, as he occupied
the room adjoining the den, he, Marius Pontmercy, a lawyer,
had heard the whole plot through the partition; that the
wretch who had planned the trap was a certain Jondrette; that
there would be accomplices, probably some prowlers of the
barriers, among others a certain Panchaud, alias Printanier,
alias Bigrenaille; that Jondrette's daughters were to lie in
wait; that there was no way of warning the threatened man,
since he did not even know his name; and that, finally, all this
was to be carried out at six o'clock that evening, at the most
deserted point of the Boulevard de l'Hopital, in house No.
50-52.
At the sound of this number, the inspector raised his
head,
and said coldly: —
"So it is in the room at the end of the corridor?"
"Precisely," answered Marius, and he added: "Are you
acquainted with that house?"
The inspector remained silent for a moment, then replied,
as he warmed the heel of his boot at the door of the stove: —
"Apparently."
He went on, muttering between his teeth, and not
addressing
Marius so much as his cravat: —
"Patron-Minette must have had a hand in this."
This word struck Marius.
"Patron-Minette," said he, "I did hear that word
pronounced,
in fact."
And he repeated to the inspector the dialogue between the
long-haired man and the bearded man in the snow behind the
wall of the Rue du Petit-Banquier.
The inspector muttered: —
"The long-haired man must be Brujon, and the bearded one
Demi-Liard, alias Deux-Milliards."
He had dropped his eyelids again, and became absorbed in
thought.
"As for Father What's-his-name, I think I recognize him.
Here, I've burned my coat. They always have too much fire in
these cursed stoves. Number 50-52. Former property of
Gorbeau."
Then he glanced at Marius.
"You saw only that bearded and that long-haired man?"
"And Panchaud."
"You didn't see a little imp of a dandy prowling about the
premises?"
"No."
"Nor a big lump of matter, resembling an elephant in the
Jardin des Plantes?"
"No."
"Nor a scamp with the air of an old red tail?"
"No."
"As for the fourth, no one sees him, not even his
adjutants,
clerks, and employees. It is not surprising that you did not
see him."
"No. Who are all those persons?" asked Marius.
The inspector answered: —
"Besides, this is not the time for them."
He relapsed into silence, then resumed: —
"50-52. I know that barrack. Impossible to conceal
ourselves
inside it without the artists seeing us, and then they will
get off simply by countermanding the vaudeville. They are so
modest! An audience embarrasses them. None of that, none
of that. I want to hear them sing and make them dance."
This monologue concluded, he turned to Marius, and
demanded,
gazing at him intently the while: —
"Are you afraid?"
"Of what?" said Marius.
"Of these men?"
"No more than yourself!" retorted Marius rudely, who had
begun to notice that this police agent had not yet said
"monsieur"
to him.
The inspector stared still more intently at Marius, and
continued
with sententious solemnity: —
"There, you speak like a brave man, and like an honest
man. Courage does not fear crime, and honesty does not fear
authority."
Marius interrupted him: —
"That is well, but what do you intend to do?"
The inspector contented himself with the remark: —
"The lodgers have pass-keys with which to get in at night.
You must have one."
"Yes," said Marius.
"Have you it about you?"
"Yes."
"Give it to me," said the inspector.
Marius took his key from his waistcoat pocket, handed it
to
the inspector and added: —
"If you will take my advice, you will come in force."
The inspector cast on Marius such a glance as Voltaire
might have bestowed on a provincial academician who had
suggested a rhyme to him; with one movement he plunged his
hands, which were enormous, into the two immense pockets of
his top-coat, and pulled out two small steel pistols, of the sort
called "knock-me-downs." Then he presented them to Marius,
saying rapidly, in a curt tone: —
"Take these. Go home. Hide in your chamber, so that you
may be supposed to have gone out. They are loaded. Each
one carries two balls. You will keep watch; there is a hole in
the wall, as you have informed me. These men will come.
Leave them to their own devices for a time. When you think
matters have reached a crisis, and that it is time to put a
stop to them, fire a shot. Not too soon. The rest concerns me.
A shot into the ceiling, the air, no matter where. Above all
things, not too soon. Wait until they begin to put their project
into execution; you are a lawyer; you know the proper point."
Marius took the pistols and put them in the side pocket of his
coat.
"That makes a lump that can be seen," said the inspector.
"Put them in your trousers pocket."
Marius hid the pistols in his trousers pockets.
"Now," pursued the inspector, "there is not a minute more
to be lost by any one. What time is it? Half-past two. Seven
o'clock is the hour?"
"Six o'clock," answered Marius.
"I have plenty of time," said the inspector, "but no more
than enough. Don't forget anything that I have said to you.
Bang. A pistol shot."
"Rest easy," said Marius.
And as Marius laid his hand on the handle of the door on
his way out, the inspector called to him: —
"By the way, if you have occasion for my services between
now and then, come or send here. You will ask for Inspector
Javert."