2412 Les Miserables
tents of the epistle had slipped Marius’ mind. He had seen
the writing rather than read the letter. He could hardly re-
call it. But a moment ago a fresh start had been given him.
He had noted that detail: ‘my spouse and my young lady.’
He fixed a penetrating glance on the stranger. An exam-
ining judge could not have done the look better. He almost
lay in wait for him.
He confined himself to replying:
‘State the case precisely.’
The stranger inserted his two hands in both his fobs,
drew himself up without straightening his dorsal column,
but scrutinizing Marius in his turn, with the green gaze of
his spectacles.
‘So be it, Monsieur le Baron. I will be precise. I have a se-
cret to sell to you.’
‘A secret?’
‘A secret.’
‘Which concerns me?’
‘Somewhat.’
‘What is the secret?’
Marius scrutinized the man more and more as he lis-
tened to him.
‘I commence gratis,’ said the stranger. ‘You will see that
I am interesting.’
‘Spea k .’
‘Monsieur le Baron, you have in your house a thief and
an assassin.’
Marius shuddered.
‘In my house? no,’ said he.