Cornelius, pointing to them:--

"Those are not the hands of a beggar, nor of an apprentice. He is a
noble."

"Say a thief!" cried the torconnier. "My good Tristan, noble or serf,
he has ruined me, the villain! I want to see his feet warmed in your
pretty boots. He is, I don't doubt it, the leader of that gang of
devils, visible and invisible, who know all my secrets, open my locks,
rob me, murder me! They have grown rich out of me, Tristan. Ha! this
time we shall get back the treasure, for the fellow has the face of
the king of Egypt. I shall recover my dear rubies, and all the sums I
have lost; and our worthy king shall have his share in the harvest."

"Oh, our hiding-places are much more secure than yours!" said Georges,
smiling.

"Ha! the damned thief, he confesses!" cried the miser.

The grand provost was engaged in attentively examining Georges
d'Estouteville's clothes and the lock of the door.

"How did you get out those screws?"

Georges kept silence.

"Oh, very good, be silent if you choose. You will soon confess on the
holy rack," said Tristan.

"That's what I call business!" cried Cornelius.