CHAPTER II--EMBRYONIC FORMATION OF CRIMES IN THE INCUBATION OF PRISONS

  Javert's triumph in the Gorbeau hovel seemed complete, but had not beenso.

  In the first place, and this constituted the principal anxiety, Javerthad not taken the prisoner prisoner. The assassinated man who fleesis more suspicious than the assassin, and it is probable that thispersonage, who had been so precious a capture for the ruffians, would beno less fine a prize for the authorities.

  And then, Montparnasse had escaped Javert.

  Another opportunity of laying hands on that "devil's dandy" must bewaited for. Montparnasse had, in fact, encountered Éponine as she stoodon the watch under the trees of the boulevard, and had led her off,preferring to play Nemorin with the daughter rather than Schinderhanneswith the father. It was well that he did so. He was free. As forÉponine, Javert had caused her to be seized; a mediocre consolation.Éponine had joined Azelma at Les Madelonettes.

  And finally, on the way from the Gorbeau house to La Force, one of theprincipal prisoners, Claquesous, had been lost. It was not known howthis had been effected, the police agents and the sergeants "couldnot understand it at all." He had converted himself into vapor, he hadslipped through the handcuffs, he had trickled through the crevices ofthe carriage, the fiacre was cracked, and he had fled; all that theywere able to say was, that on arriving at the prison, there was noClaquesous. Either the fairies or the police had had a hand in it. HadClaquesous melted into the shadows like a snow-flake in water? Had therebeen unavowed connivance of the police agents? Did this man belongto the double enigma of order and disorder? Was he concentric withinfraction and repression? Had this sphinx his fore paws in crime andhis hind paws in authority? Javert did not accept such comminations, andwould have bristled up against such compromises; but his squad includedother inspectors besides himself, who were more initiated than he,perhaps, although they were his subordinates in the secrets of thePrefecture, and Claquesous had been such a villain that he might makea very good agent. It is an excellent thing for ruffianism and anadmirable thing for the police to be on such intimate juggling termswith the night. These double-edged rascals do exist. However that maybe, Claquesous had gone astray and was not found again. Javert appearedto be more irritated than amazed at this.

  As for Marius, "that booby of a lawyer," who had probably becomefrightened, and whose name Javert had forgotten, Javert attached verylittle importance to him. Moreover, a lawyer can be hunted up at anytime. But was he a lawyer after all?

  The investigation had begun.

  The magistrate had thought it advisable not to put one of these men ofthe band of Patron Minette in close confinement, in the hope that hewould chatter. This man was Brujon, the long-haired man of the Rue duPetit-Banquier. He had been let loose in the Charlemagne courtyard, andthe eyes of the watchers were fixed on him.

  This name of Brujon is one of the souvenirs of La Force. In that hideouscourtyard, called the court of the Bâtiment-Neuf (New Building), whichthe administration called the court Saint-Bernard, and which the robberscalled the Fosse-aux-Lions (The Lion's Ditch), on that wall covered withscales and leprosy, which rose on the left to a level with the roofs,near an old door of rusty iron which led to the ancient chapel of theducal residence of La Force, then turned in a dormitory for ruffians,there could still be seen, twelve years ago, a sort of fortress roughlycarved in the stone with a nail, and beneath it this signature:--

  BRUJON, 1811.

  The Brujon of 1811 was the father of the Brujon of 1832.

  The latter, of whom the reader caught but a glimpse at the Gorbeauhouse, was a very cunning and very adroit young spark, with a bewilderedand plaintive air. It was in consequence of this plaintive air that themagistrate had released him, thinking him more useful in the Charlemagneyard than in close confinement.

  Robbers do not interrupt their profession because they are in the handsof justice. They do not let themselves be put out by such a trifle asthat. To be in prison for one crime is no reason for not beginning onanother crime. They are artists, who have one picture in the salon, andwho toil, none the less, on a new work in their studios.

  Brujon seemed to be stupefied by prison. He could sometimes be seenstanding by the hour together in front of the sutler's window in theCharlemagne yard, staring like an idiot at the sordid list of priceswhich began with: _garlic_, 62 _centimes_, and ended with: _cigar_, 5_centimes_. Or he passed his time in trembling, chattering his teeth,saying that he had a fever, and inquiring whether one of the eight andtwenty beds in the fever ward was vacant.

  All at once, towards the end of February, 1832, it was discovered thatBrujon, that somnolent fellow, had had three different commissionsexecuted by the errand-men of the establishment, not under his own name,but in the name of three of his comrades; and they had cost him in allfifty sous, an exorbitant outlay which attracted the attention of theprison corporal.

  Inquiries were instituted, and on consulting the tariff of commissionsposted in the convict's parlor, it was learned that the fifty sous couldbe analyzed as follows: three commissions; one to the Panthéon, tensous; one to Val-de-Grâce, fifteen sous; and one to the Barrière deGrenelle, twenty-five sous. This last was the dearest of the wholetariff. Now, at the Panthéon, at the Val-de-Grâce, and at the Barrièrede Grenelle were situated the domiciles of the three very redoubtableprowlers of the barriers, Kruideniers, alias Bizarro, Glorieux, anex-convict, and Barre-Carosse, upon whom the attention of the police wasdirected by this incident. It was thought that these men were membersof Patron Minette; two of those leaders, Babet and Gueulemer, had beencaptured. It was supposed that the messages, which had been addressed,not to houses, but to people who were waiting for them in the street,must have contained information with regard to some crime that had beenplotted. They were in possession of other indications; they laid hand onthe three prowlers, and supposed that they had circumvented some one orother of Brujon's machinations.

  About a week after these measures had been taken, one night, as thesuperintendent of the watch, who had been inspecting the lower dormitoryin the Bâtiment-Neuf, was about to drop his chestnut in the box--thiswas the means adopted to make sure that the watchmen performed theirduties punctually; every hour a chestnut must be dropped into all theboxes nailed to the doors of the dormitories--a watchman looked throughthe peep-hole of the dormitory and beheld Brujon sitting on his bed andwriting something by the light of the hall-lamp. The guardian entered,Brujon was put in a solitary cell for a month, but they were not able toseize what he had written. The police learned nothing further about it.

  What is certain is, that on the following morning, a "postilion"was flung from the Charlemagne yard into the Lions' Ditch, over thefive-story building which separated the two court-yards.

  What prisoners call a "postilion" is a pallet of bread artisticallymoulded, which is sent _into Ireland_, that is to say, over the roofs ofa prison, from one courtyard to another. Etymology: over England; fromone land to another; _into Ireland_. This little pellet falls in theyard. The man who picks it up opens it and finds in it a note addressedto some prisoner in that yard. If it is a prisoner who finds thetreasure, he forwards the note to its destination; if it is a keeper, orone of the prisoners secretly sold who are called _sheep_ in prisons and_foxes_ in the galleys, the note is taken to the office and handed overto the police.

  On this occasion, the postilion reached its address, although the personto whom it was addressed was, at that moment, in solitary confinement.This person was no other than Babet, one of the four heads of PatronMinette.

  The postilion contained a roll of paper on which only these two lineswere written:--

  "Babet. There is an affair in the Rue Plumet. A gate on a garden."

  This is what Brujon had written the night before.

  In spite of male and female searchers, Babet managed to pass the note onfrom La Force to the Salpêtrière, to a "good friend" whom he had and whowas shut up there. This woman in turn transmitted the note to anotherwoman of her acquaintance, a certain Magnon, who was strongly suspectedby the police, though not yet arrested. This Magnon, whose name thereader has already seen, had relations with the Thénardier, which willbe described in detail later on, and she could, by going to see Éponine,serve as a bridge between the Salpêtrière and Les Madelonettes.

  It happened, that at precisely that moment, as proofs were wantingin the investigation directed against Thénardier in the matter of hisdaughters, Éponine and Azelma were released. When Éponine came out,Magnon, who was watching the gate of the Madelonettes, handed herBrujon's note to Babet, charging her to look into the matter.

  Éponine went to the Rue Plumet, recognized the gate and the garden,observed the house, spied, lurked, and, a few days later, brought toMagnon, who delivers in the Rue Clocheperce, a biscuit, which Magnontransmitted to Babet's mistress in the Salpêtrière. A biscuit, in theshady symbolism of prisons, signifies: Nothing to be done.

  So that in less than a week from that time, as Brujon and Babet met inthe circle of La Force, the one on his way to the examination, the otheron his way from it:--

  "Well?" asked Brujon, "the Rue P.?"

  "Biscuit," replied Babet. Thus did the fotus of crime engendered byBrujon in La Force miscarry.

  This miscarriage had its consequences, however, which were perfectlydistinct from Brujon's programme. The reader will see what they were.

  Often when we think we are knotting one thread, we are tying quiteanother.