"What the devil has brought you here at this hour?" said the barber, shutting his door, while the Gascon looked towards the end of the alley as though he were trying to see someone. Finally, he put his finger on his mouth and said in a low voice,-- "Are you alone just now?" "Yes, certainly." "You have no visitors?" "Why, no, nobody, I tell you." "Then it is urgent that I should speak with you." The barber returned into the lower room, and Chaudoreille followed him, walking on his tiptoes and turning to the right and left, as though he were looking for someone. "Come, what have you got to say?" said Touquet. "What means this visit, so near midnight? Did you think that I should be inclined to sleep you? Go. There are still gambling dens open in Paris where you can find a bed, but my house shall not serve as a shelter for nighthawks." Chaudoreille, without appearing in the least disconcerted, listened to Touquet, shaking his hat meanwhile, and wringing his mantle; he smiled with a mischievous air as he listened to the barber's last words, and answered,-- "Your house! By jingo, you make a good deal of fuss about your house. We shall see presently whether you receive any suspicious persons." "What do you mean by that?" cried Touquet, angrily. "Hush! Don't make so much noise, I beg of you. Don't wake the cat up, she is asleep." "Chaudoreille, I'm losing patience. Say what you want, or I'll be the death of you." "Well, what the deuce! I came to do you a service, and it seems to me that that shouldn't make you angry. Listen now, but I beg of you don't lose your temper, for that will make me break the thread of my discourse." The barber restrained himself as well as he could, and Chaudoreille, after passing his cuff over the edge of his hat to give it a lustre, commenced his story in a low voice,-- "I was going this morning to Saint-Germain's fair and found myself without money, something which very often happens with me. I had eaten nothing since yesterday." "You have eaten and drunk since, I'll answer for it." "Yes, certainly, thanks to my genius. I was making some rather sad reflections on the instability of my luck at piquet, the treacherous chances of lansquenet and the lack of solidity in gambling--" "I should like to make you reflect at this minute on the strength of a good stick." "Hush, don't interrupt me. I perceived at the fair two young men, youths, you know; some of those faces which seem to say, 'Who will come and do me?' those faces without mischief which are a veritable good fortune for men of parts. The poor little fellows were playing at skittles." "Come to the point. You are abusing my patience."