Every precaution has been taken; the spring of
the bell on the door, is to be cut with a pair of
shears, so that you will have no notice of its
opening. Once inside, they will rush up to
your chamber; and, if they observe the slightest
symptom of your awakening—as you have to do
with a consummate villain, I have no occasion
to explain the rest."

"They will cut our throats!" said the terrified
wine-seller, immediately calling his wife to
communicate to her this agreeable piece of news.
"What will this world come to! Would you
believe it, my dear? That Madame Hazard, so
smooth and saintly, that the curé would give her
absolution without hearing her confession, has
been trying to work our ruin. This very night,
they are coming to murder us."

"No, no," interrupted Vidocq; "make your
minds easy. It is not to come off to-night; the
till won't be heavy enough. They are waiting
till Twelfth Day is over; but, if you are discreet,
and will agree to second me, we will set all that
to rights."

The wine-merchant and his wife entreated
Monsieur le Chef de la Police de Sûreté to
ease them, as soon as possible, of so disagreeable
a tenant, and not to leave them in a
state of apprehension until Twelfth Night was
over. Vidocq at first pretended that that
would not suit his plans; then, he affected to
yield, solely on account of the lively interest
with which these worthy people inspired him.
The married pair undertook to watch Fossard's
movements, and to keep up a constant
communication with Vidocq, who had established his
quarter-general at the neighbouring guard-house,
in which a commissaire of gendarmes installed
himself in permanence, awaiting the moment of
action. At eleven o'clock of the night of the
31st of December, Fossard came home without
suspicion, humming a tune as he walked
upstairs. Twenty minutes afterwards, the
disappearance of the light indicated that he had gone
to bed. Vidocq and all his companions were
quietly let in by the wine-seller. A fresh
consultation was held at once as to the means of
seizing Fossard without running too great risks.

Vidocq' s first idea was to do nothing before
morning. He was informed that Fossard's
lady companion came down stairs very early to
fetch milk. The object was to seize this woman,
take possession of the key, and so to enter her
friend's bedroom unannounced; but might it not
happen that, contrary to custom, he might come
down stairs first? This reflection led to the
adoption of another expedient. The mistress
of the wine-shop, to whom M. Hazard always
behaved with great politeness, had one of her
nephews staying with her. He was tolerably
intelligent for a child of ten years of age, and
as precociously anxious to earn money as any
little Norman need be. He was promised a
reward if, under the pretext of his aunt's being
indisposed, he would go and beg Madame
Hazard to give him some eau-de-Cologne. The
young gentleman was exercised in the piteous
tone adapted to the pretended circumstances
and, as soon as he was perfect, the play was
played. The other actors took off their shoes,
in order to get up-stairs unheard. The lad had
nothing on but his shirt; he rang the bell. No
answer; he rang again.

"Who is there?"

"'Tis I, Madame Hazard; 'tis Louis. My
aunt is suddenly taken very ill, and she begs you
to give her a little eau-de-Cologne. She says
she is dying. I have brought a light."

The door opened; but scarcely could the lady
show herself before she was dragged away by a
couple of powerful gendarmes, who clapped a
cloth on her mouth to prevent her from screaming.
Vidocq threw himself upon Fossard.
Stupified by the suddenness of the event, and already
handcuffed and bound in his bed, he was taken
prisoner before he had time to make a single
movement or to utter a single word. His
astonishment was so great, that he was nearly
an hour before he recovered his speech. When
lights were brought in, and he saw his enemy's
coal-heaver's dress and blackened face, he was
seized with redoubled terror.

Search was made in the dwelling of this brigand,
who had acquired a redoubtable
reputation. A great quantity of jewellery, diamonds,
and a, sum of eight or ten thousand francs
were found. While this investigation was
going on, Fossard, who had recovered his
presence of mind, confided to Vidocq that beneath
the marble top of the side-table there were
still ten notes of a thousand francs each. "Take
them," he said; "we will share them between
us; or, rather, you shall keep what you please, for
yourself." Vidocq in fact did take the notes as
he was requested. They got into a hackney-
coach and drove to M. Henry's office, where the
articles found in Fossard's apartments were
deposited. An inventory was made of them.
When they came to the last item, the Commissary
who had accompanied the expedition for
formality's sake, observed, "We have now only
to close the procès-verbal." "Wait an instant,"
cried Vidocq. "Here are ten thousand francs
besides, which the prisoner gave me." So
saying, he displayed the notes—to Fossard's great
indignation. He darted one of those glances
whose interpretation is, "This trick I will never
forgive you!"

           The Twelfth Journey of
THE UNCOMMERCIAL TRAVELLER,
A SERIES OF OCCASIONAL JOURNEYS,
           BY CHARLES DICKENS,
             Will appear Next Week.