"Clodoche--and from the sewers ?" "Yes--why not ?" he answered, his tongue thick-burred with the accent of Alsace, his shifting eyes flashing toward the huge window behind the bar, where, in the moonlight, the narrow passage leading down to the door of "The Twisted Arm" gaped evilly between double rows of scowling, thief-sheltering houses.

"Name of the fiend! Is this the welcome you give the bringer of fortune, Margot ?" "But from the sewer ?" she repeated.

"It is incomprehensible, _cher ami_.

You were to pilot von Hetzler over from the Cafe Dupin to the square beyond there"-- pointing to the window--"to leave him waiting a moment while you came on to see if it were safe for him to enter; and now you come from the sewer--from the opposite direction entirely!" "Mother of misfortunes! You had done the same yourself--you, Lantier; you, Clopin; you, Cadarousse; any of you--had you been in my boots," he made answer.

"I stole a leaf from your own book, earlier in the evening.
Garotted a fellow with jewels on him--in the Rue Noir, near the Market Place--and nearly got into 'the stone bottle' for doing it.