"We can but try," replied Thomas, who said to the Chourineur, "Comrade, we expected to find in this cabaret a friend of ours; he supped with you, I find. Perhaps, as you know him, you will tell us which way he has gone?" "I know him because he gave me a precious good hiding two hours ago, to prevent me from beating Goualeuse." "And have you never seen him before?" "Never; we met by chance in the alley which leads to Bras Rouge's house." "Hostess, another bottle of the best," said Thomas Seyton. Sarah and he had hardly moistened their lips, and their glasses were still full; but Mother Ponisse, doubtless anxious to pay proper respect to her own cellar, had frequently filled and emptied hers. "And put it on the table where that gentleman sits, if he will permit," added Thomas, who, with Sarah, seated themselves beside the Chourineur, who was as much astonished as flattered by such politeness. The Schoolmaster and the Chouette were talking over their own dark plans in low tones and "flash" language. The bottle being brought, and Sarah and her brother seated with the Chourineur and the ogress, who had considered a second invitation as superfluous, the conversation was resumed. "You told us, my good fellow, that you met our comrade Rodolph in the house where Bras Rouge lives?" inquired Thomas Seyton, as he hob and nobbed with the Chourineur. "Yes, my good fellow," replied he, as he emptied his glass at a gulp. "What a singular name is Bras Rouge! What is this Bras Rouge?" "_Il pastique la maltouze_" (smuggles), said the Chourineur, in a careless tone, and then added, "This is jolly good wine, Mother Ponisse!" "If you think so, do not spare it, my fine fellow," said Seyton, and he filled the Chourineur's glass as he spoke. "Your health, mate," said he, "and the health of your little friend, who--but mum. 'If my aunt was a man, she'd be my uncle,' as the proverb says. Ah! you sly rogue, I'm up to you!" Sarah coloured slightly as her brother continued, "I did not quite understand what you meant about Bras Rouge. Rodolph came from his house, no doubt?" "I told you that Bras Rouge _pastique la maltouze_." Thomas regarded the Chourineur with an air of surprise. "What do you mean by _pastique la mal_--What do you call it?" "_Pastiquer la maltouze._ He smuggles, I suppose you would call it; but it seems you can't 'patter flash?'" "My fine fellow, I don't understand one word you say." "I see you can't talk slang like M. Rodolph." "Slang?" said Thomas Seyton, looking at Sarah with an astonished air.