The door of the garret had just opened abruptly, and allowed a view of three men clad in blue linen blouses, and masked with masks of black paper.
The first was thin, and had a long, iron-tipped cudgel; the second, who was a sort of colossus, carried, by the middle of the handle, with the blade downward, a butcher’s pole-axe for slaughtering cattle.
The third, a man with thick-set shoulders, not so slender as the first, held in his hand an enormous key stolen from the door of some prison. It appeared that the arrival of these men was what Jondrette had been waiting for.
A rapid dialogue ensued between him and the man with the cudgel, the thin one. 'Is everything ready? ' said Jondrette. 'Yes,' replied the thin man. 'Where is Montparnasse? ' 'The young principal actor stopped to chat with your girl. ' 'Which? ' 'The eldest. ' 'Is there a carriage at the door? ' 'Yes.
' 'Is the team harnessed? ' 'Yes. ' 'With two good horses? ' 'Excellent. ' 'Is it waiting where I ordered? ' 'Yes. ' 'Good,' said Jondrette. M. Leblanc was very pale.
He was scrutinizing everything around him in the den, like a man who understands what he has fallen into, and his head, directed in turn toward all the heads which surrounded him, moved on his neck with an astonished and attentive slowness, but there was nothing in his air which resembled fear.
He had improvised an intrenchment out of the table; and the man, who but an instant previously, had borne merely the appearance of a kindly old man, had suddenly become a sort of athlete, and placed his robust fist on the back of his chair, with a formidable and surprising gesture.
This old man, who was so firm and so brave in the presence of such a danger, seemed