d, and some of the other," he said, "and I
am your man! Hurrah for liberty! Where is that wall that we are to go
through?"

"I will show you to-morrow; and till then, Trumence, silence."

It was only the next day that Blangin showed Jacques the place where the
wall had least thickness. It was in a kind of cellar, where nobody ever
came, and where cast-off tools were stored away.

"In order that you may not be interrupted," said the jailer, "I will ask
two of my comrades to dine with me, and I shall invite the sergeant on
duty. They will enjoy themselves, and never think of the prisoners. My
wife will keep a sharp lookout; and, if any of the rounds should come
this way, she would warn you, and quick, quick, you would be back in
your room."

All was settled; and, as soon as night came, Jacques and Trumence,
taking a candle with them, slipped down into the cellar, and went to
work. It was a hard task to get through this old wall, and Jacques would
never have been able to accomplish it alone. The thickness was even less
than what Blangin had stated it to be; but the hardness was far beyond
expectation. Our fathers built well. In course of time the cement had
become one with the stone, and acquired the same hardness. It was as if
they had attacked a block of granite. The vagrant had, fortunately, a
strong arm; and, in spite of the precautions which they had to take to
prevent being heard, he had, in less than an hour, made a hole through
which a man could pass. He put his head in; and, after a moment's
examination, he said,--

"All right! The night is dark, and the place is deserted. Upon my word,
I will risk it!"

He went through; Jacques followed; and instinctively they hastened
towards a place where several trees made a dark shadow. Once there,
Jacques handed Trumence a package of five-franc notes, and said,--

"Add this to the hundred Napoleons I have given you before. Thank you:
you are a good fellow, and, if I get out of my trouble, I will not
forget you. And now let us part. Make haste, be careful, and good luck!"

After these words he went off rapidly. But Trumence did not march off in
the opposite direction, as had been agreed upon.

"Anyhow," said the poor vagrant to himself, "this is a curious story
about the poor gentleman. Where on earth can he be going?"

And, curiosity getting the better of prudence, he followed him.

XXVIII.

Jacques de Boiscoran went straight to Mautrec Street. But he knew