"There are just two safe places for you: Biribi or prison. Which do you prefer?"
"I? Oh, my God! I have served in the Battalion de Biribi! Not _that_, M’sieu’——"
Asticot emitted a muffled shriek, huddled his ragged knees within his arms, and sat rocking and whimpering and blubbering with fright under the lantern until an impatient gesture from Warner startled him dumb.
"Like all your kind, you don’t like to be hurt, do you?" inquired Warner, disgusted. "Yet, for twenty francs—for ten—yes, for _five_—you could be hired to do murder; couldn’t you?"
"I—I would b-be happy to do it for nothing to oblige M’sieu’——"
"I haven’t a doubt of it. The only thing you understand is fear.... Where is Wildresse?"
"Le Père Wildresse—he has taken to the woods——"
"It is because of the girl Philippa. It is evident to Squelette and to me that he fears her. Why? I tell you frankly I do not know. If I knew——"
Asticot turned his battered visage toward Warner. A leer stretched his swollen mouth.
"If we knew what he is afraid of, Squelette and I, we would make him sing!" he said coolly.
"I understand. And if you ever had a chance to get behind my back with a thoroughly trustworthy knife—eh, Asticot?"
"No," said the ruffian naïvely, "I should be afraid to do that." He squinted silently at Warner out of his puffy eyes for a few moments, then, shaking his head: "No," he repeated; "never again. I should make of the job only a bungle; I should be too horribly afraid."
"Tomorrow," he said, "I shall go with you to the Forest of Ausone and you shall find the Père Wildresse for me and I shall have a little chat with him."
"Do you mean to slay him, M’sieu’? It would be safer, I think. I could do it for you, if you wish, when his back is turned. When one is annoyed by anybody, it saves much trouble to knock him on the head at once. If I could once get him down," he added cheerfully, "I would take him by both ears and beat his head on the ground until his coco cracked."
"Certainly. Supposition that an individual bores M’sieu’. What to do? M’sieu’ reflects; M’sieu’ rubs his head in perplexity—crac! There is his devoted friend, Asticot! Why had you not before thought of your humble friend and grateful? Asticot! To be sure! A word to him and the job is done, discreetly, without any _tapage_. And M’sieu’, contented, I trust, with his honest and devoted Asticot, may remember in his bounty that times are hard and that one must eat and drink—yes, even poor Asticot among the rest."