Lesage's mouth opened, and he stood staring with his knees bent and his
spread-fingered hands up, the most hideous picture of fear that I have
ever seen.

'You, Charles, you!' he stammered, hawking up each word.

'Yes, me,' said the other, smiling grimly.

'A police agent all the time! You who were the very soul of our
society! You who were in our inmost council! You who led us on!
Oh, Charles, you have not the heart! I think I hear them coming,
Charles. Let me pass; I beg and implore you to let me pass.'

The granite face shook slowly from side to side.

'But why me? Why not Toussac?'

'If the dog had crippled Toussac, why then I might have had you both.
But friend Toussac is rather vigorous for a thin little fellow like me.
No, no, my good Lucien, you are destined to be the trophy of my bow and
my spear, and you must reconcile yourself to the fact.'

Lesage slapped his forehead as if to assure himself that he was not
dreaming.

'A police agent!' he repeated, 'Charles a police agent!'

'I thought it would surprise you.'