his charge. At the corner he whistled in a peculiar manner, whereupon
the rumbling of wheels was heard. In a few moments the leather-covered
vehicle drew up beside the curb where the young man was waiting.

"I am very much obliged to you for your kindness, citizen," he said to
the blouse-wearer, who had returned with the coach. "Here," pressing a
twenty-sou piece into the man's palm, "is something for your trouble. I
wish you would come with me to help hunt for this little girl's home. If
you have time, and will come with me, you shall be paid for your
trouble."

"Can't do it, citizen; my wife is expecting me at home. Just you trust
this coachman; he will help you find the place. He 's a clever
youth--are n't you, Peroquin? You have made many a night journey about
Paris, have n't you? See that you earn your twenty francs to-night,
too!"

That the coachman was also in the service of the secret police the young
man knew very well; but he did not betray his knowledge by word or mien.

The blouse-wearer now shook hands cordially with the young man, and
said:

"Adieu, citizen. I beg your pardon if I offended you. I 'll leave you
now. I am going to my wife, or to the tavern; who can tell the future?"

He waited until the young man had entered the coach with his charge;
then, instead of betaking himself to his wife or to the tavern, he
crossed the street, and took up his station in the recess of a doorway
opposite the house with the swinging lantern. . . .