Again silence reigned in the coach.

“The coin is in a very hard bed of masonry.  It must be got out, and you have only three nights to do it in.  Jacqueline will help you.—­A hundred thousand francs will buy up the business, fifty thousand will pay for the house; leave the remainder.”

“Where?” said Paccard.

“In the cellar?” asked Prudence.

“Silence!” cried Jacqueline.

“Yes, but to get the business transferred, we must have the consent of the police authorities,” Paccard objected.

“We shall have it,” said Trompe-la-Mort.  “Don’t meddle in what does not concern you.”

Jacqueline looked at her nephew, and was struck by the alteration in his face, visible through the stern mask under which the strong man generally hid his feelings.

“You, child,” said he to Prudence Servien, “will receive from my aunt the seven hundred and fifty thousand francs——­”

“Seven hundred and thirty,” said Paccard.

“Very good, seven hundred and thirty then,” said Jacques Collin.  “You must return this evening under some pretext to Madame Lucien’s house.  Get out on the roof through the skylight; get down the chimney into your miss’ess’ room, and hide the packet she had made of the money in the mattress——­”

“And why not by the door?” asked Prudence Servien.

“Idiot! there are seals on everything,” replied Jacques Collin.  “In a few days the inventory will be taken, and you will be innocent of the theft.”

“Good for the boss!” cried Paccard.  “That is really kind!”

“Stop, coachman!” cried Jacques Collin’s powerful voice.

The coach was close to the stand by the Jardin des Plantes.

“Be off, young ’uns,” said Jacques Collin, “and do nothing silly!  Be on the Pont des Arts this afternoon at five, and my aunt will let you know if there are any orders to the contrary.—­We must be prepared for everything,” he whispered to his aunt.  “To-morrow,” he went on, “Jacqueline will tell you how to dig up the gold without any risk.  It is a ticklish job——­”

Paccard and Prudence jumped out on to the King’s highway, as happy as reprieved thieves.

“What a good fellow the boss is!” said Paccard.

“He would be the king of men if he were not so rough on women.”

“Oh, yes!  He is a sweet creature,” said Paccard.  “Did you see how he kicked me?  Well, we deserved to be sent to old Nick; for, after all, we got him into this scrape.”

“If only he does not drag us into some dirty job, and get us packed off to the hulks yet,” said the wily Prudence.

“Not he!  If he had that in his head, he would tell us; you don’t know him.—­He has provided handsomely for you.  Here we are, citizens at large!  Oh, when that man takes a fancy to you, he has not his match for good-nature.”

“Now, my jewel,” said Jacques Collin to his aunt, “you must take la Gonore in hand; she must be humbugged.  Five days hence she will be taken into custody, and a hundred and fifty thousand francs will be found in her rooms, the remains of a share from the robbery and murder of the old Crottat couple, the notary’s father and mother.”