like himself, had lived in cellars and in underground burrows, and lived
on the scraps of food which even street-curs had disdained.

On the seventh day following Mole's entry into the household, and while
the latter was preparing his employer's bath, Marat said abruptly to
him:

"You'll go as far as the Chemin de Pantin to-day for me, citizen. You
know your way?"

"I can find it, what?" muttered Mole, who appeared to be in one of his
surly moods.

"You will have to go very circumspectly," Marat went on, in his cracked
and feeble voice. "And see to it that no one spies upon your movements.
I have many enemies, citizen...one especially...a woman.... She is
always prying and spying on me....So beware of any woman you see lurking
about at your heels."

Mole gave a half-audible grunt in reply.

"You had best go after dark," the other rejoined after awhile. "Come
back to me after nine o'clock. It is not far to the Chemin de Pantin--
just where it intersects the Route de Meaux. You can get there and back
before midnight. The people will admit you. I will give you a ring--the
only thing I possess.... It has little or no value," he added with a
harsh, grating laugh. "It will not be worth your while to steal it. You
will have to see a brat and report to me on his condition--his
appearance, what? ... Talk to him a bit.... See what he says and let me
know. It is not difficult."