"You are right there!" Barras retorted grimly. But the subject was not sufficiently interesting to engross his attention further. He had so many and such momentous things to do. Already he had nodded to his men and turned his back on the grimy coalheaver, who, shaken by a fit of coughing, unable to speak for the moment, had put out his grimy hand and gripped the deputy firmly by the sleeve. "What is it now?" Barras ejaculated roughly. "If you will but listen, citizen," Rateau wheezed painfully, "I can tell you----" "What?" "You were asking citizen Chauvelin where you could find some soldiers of the Republic to do you service." "Yes; I did." "Well," Rateau rejoined, and an expression of malicious cunning distorted his ugly face. "I can tell you." "What do you mean?" "I lodge in an empty warehouse over yonder," Rateau went on eagerly, and pointed in the direction where Chauvelin's spare figure had disappeared awhile ago. "The floor above is inhabited by Mother Théot, the witch. You know her, citizen?" "Yes, yes! I thought she had been sent to the guillotine along with----" "She was let out of prison, and has been doing some of citizen Chauvelin's spying for him." Barras frowned. This was none of his business, and the dirty coalheaver inspired him with an unpleasant sense of loathing. "To the point, citizen!" he said curtly. "Citizen Chauvelin has a dozen or more soldiers under his command, in that house," Rateau went on with a leer. "They are trained troops of the National Guard----" "How do you know?" Barras broke in harshly. "Pardi!" was the coalheaver's dry reply. "I clean their boots for them." "Where is the house?" "In the Rue de la Planchette. But there is an entrance into the warehouse at the back of it." "Allons!" was Barras' curt word of command, to the two men who accompanied him. He strode up the street toward the gate, not caring whether Rateau came along or no. But the coalheaver followed in the wake of the three men. He had buried his grimy fists once more in the pocket of his tattered breeches; but not before he had shaken them, each in turn, in the direction of the Rue de la Planchette. §5 Chauvelin in the meanwhile had turned into Mother Théot's house, and without speaking to the old charlatan, who was watching for him in the vestibule, he mounted to the top floor. Here he called peremptorily to Captain Boyer. "There is half an hour yet," the latter murmured gruffly; "and I am sick of all this waiting! Let me finish with that cursed aristo in there. My comrades and I want to see what is going on in the city, and join in the fun, if there is any." "Half an hour, citizen," Chauvelin rejoined dryly. "You'll lose little of the fun, and you'll certainly lose your share of the ten thousand livres if you shoot the woman and fail to capture the Scarlet Pimpernel." "Bah! He'll not come now," Boyer riposted. "It is too late. He is looking after his own skin, pardi!"