"Well, good-bye," said Theodose, opening a hidden door which
communicated from the study to the bedroom. "Come in, Monsieur
Thuillier," he called out to the beau of the Empire.

When he saw him safely in the study he went to let out his two
associates through the bedroom and kitchen into the courtyard.

"In six months," said Cerizet, "you'll have married Celeste and got
your foot into the stirrup. You are lucky, you are, not to have sat,
like me, in the prisoners' dock. I've been there twice: once in 1825,
for 'subversive articles' which I never wrote, and the second time for
receiving the profits of a joint-stock company which had slipped
through my fingers! Come, let's warm this thing up! Sac-a-papier!
Dutocq and I are sorely in need of that twenty-five thousand francs.
Good courage, old fellow!" he added, holding out his hand to Theodose,
and making the grasp a test of faithfulness.

The Provencal gave Cerizet his right hand, pressing the other's hand
warmly:--

"My good fellow," he said, "be very sure that in whatever position I
may find myself I shall never forget that from which you have drawn me
by putting me in the saddle here. I'm simply your bait; but you are
giving me the best part of the catch, and I should be more infamous
than a galley-slave who turns policeman if I didn't play fair."

As soon as the door was closed, Cerizet peeped through the key-hole,
trying to catch sight of la Peyrade's face. But the Provencal had
turned back to meet Thuillier, and his distrustful associate could not
detect the expression of his countenance.