ion, engaged him to station
himself outside the establishment from eleven to three every night, in
return for his board and lodging and a salary of five francs a day.

It need not be said that Bouzille had closed with the offer. But getting
tired of cooling his heels on the doorstep, he had gradually taken to
leaving his train on the pavement and himself going down into the
basement hall, where he generously returned his five francs every night
to the proprietor, in exchange for potations to that amount.

* * * * *

In the basement of the Saint-Anthony's Pig the atmosphere was steadily
getting cloudier, and the noise louder. The time was about a quarter to
two. The "swells," and the young men about town who went to have a bowl
of onion soup at the popular cafe because that was the latest correct
thing to do, had withdrawn. The few pale and shabby dancers had given
their show, and in another ten minutes, when the wealthy customers had
departed, the supper room would resume its natural appearance and
everybody would be at home. Francois Bonbonne had just escorted the last
toffs up the narrow corkscrew staircase that led from the basement to
the ground-floor, and now he stood, his stout person entirely filling
the only exit, unctuously suggesting that perhaps somebody would like to
give an order for a hot wine salad.

Berthe was sitting in a corner beside her brother, whom the warmth of
the room and his numerous potations had rendered drowsy, and thinking it
an opportune moment to tell him of her scheme, before he became
talkative or quarrelsome, she began to explain.

"There's nothing much to do, but I want a strong man like you."

"Any barrels to roll anywhere?" he enquired in a thick voice.

Berthe shook her head, her glance meanwhile resting mechanically on a
small young man with a budding beard and a pale face, who had just taken
a seat opposite her and was timidly ordering a portion of sauerkraut.

"I want some bars removed from a window; they are iron bars set in
stone, but the stone is worn and the bars are very rusty, and anybody
with a little strength could wrench them out."

"And that's all?" Geoffroy enquired suspiciously.

"Yes, that's all."

"Then I shall be very glad to help you: I suppose it will be worth
something, won't it?" He broke off short, noticing that a man sitting
close by seemed to be listening attentively to the conversation. Berthe
followed his eyes, a