“If I sought your ruin, fool, I should drag you to the first guardhouse; besides, when that note is delivered, in all probability you will have no more to fear. Sign it, then!”
Caderousse signed it.
“The address, ‘To monsieur the Baron Danglars, banker, Rue de la Chaussée d’Antin.’ ”
Caderousse wrote the address. The abbé took the note.
“Now,” said he, “that suffices—begone!”
“Which way?”
“The way you came.”
“You wish me to get out at that window?”
“You got in very well.”
“Oh, you have some design against me, reverend sir.”
“Idiot! what design can I have?”
“Why, then, not let me out by the door?”
“What would be the advantage of waking the porter?”
“Ah, reverend sir, tell me, do you wish me dead?”
“I wish what God wills.”
“But swear that you will not strike me as I go down.”
“Cowardly fool!”
“What do you intend doing with me?”