"You know very well," Thénardier answered; "for the little one; I just told you so." It was evident that Thénardier avoided mentioning the name of the girl in question: he called her "the Lark," he called her "the little one," but he did not pronounce her name. It was the precaution of a clever man who keeps his secret from his accomplices, and mentioning the name would have told them the whole affair, and taught them more than there was any occasion for them to know. So he repeated,-- "Sign it. What is your name?" "Urbain Fabre," said the prisoner. Thénardier, with the movement of a cat, thrust his hand into his pocket and drew out the handkerchief found on M. Leblanc. He sought for the mark, and held it to the candle. "'U. F.,' all right, Urbain Fabre. Well, sign it 'U. F.'" The prisoner did so. "As two hands are needed to fold a letter, give it to me and I will do it." This done, Thénardier added,-- "Write the address, 'Mademoiselle Fabre,' at your house. I know that you live somewhere near here in the neighborhood of St. Jacques du Haut-pas, as you attend Mass there every day, but I do not know in what street. I see that you understand your situation, and as you have not told a falsehood about your name, you will not do so about your address. Write it yourself." The prisoner remained pensive for a moment, and then took up the pen and wrote,-- "Mademoiselle Fabre, at M. Urbain Fabre's, No. 17, Rue St. Dominique d'Enfer." Thénardier seized the letter with a sort of feverish convulsion. "Wife!" he shouted, and the woman came up. "Here is the letter, and you know what you have to do. There is a hackney coach down below, so be off at once, and return ditto." Then he turned to the man with the pole-axe, and said, "As you have taken off your muffler, you can accompany her. Get up behind the coach. You know where you left it?" "Yes," said the man; and depositing the axe in a corner, he followed the woman. As they were going away Thénardier thrust his head out of the door and shouted down the passage,-- "Mind and do not lose the letter! Remember you have two hundred thousand francs about you." The woman's hoarse voice replied,-- "Don't be frightened, I have put it in my stomach." A minute had not elapsed when the crack of a whip could be heard rapidly retiring. "All right," Thénardier growled, "they are going at a good pace; with a gallop like that she will be back in three quarters of an hour." He drew up a chair to the fire-side, and sat down with folded arms, and holding his muddy boots to the heating-pan. "My feet are cold," he said.