"Are you all well at home, Monsieur Rigou?" said the illustrious
innkeeper.

"Pretty well, my good friend," replied Rigou. "Do Plissoud and
Bonnebault and Viollet and Amaury still continue good customers?"

This question, uttered in a tone of good-natured interest, was by no
means one of those empty speeches which superiors are apt to bestow
upon inferiors. In his leisure moments Rigou thought over the smallest
details of "the affair," and Fourchon had already warned him that
there was something suspicious in the intimacy between Plissoud,
Bonnebault, and the brigadier, Viollet.

Bonnebault, in payment of a few francs lost at cards, might very
likely tell the secrets he heard at Tonsard's to Viollet; or he might
let them out over his punch without realizing the importance of such
gossip. But as the information of the old otter man might be
instigated by thirst, Rigou paid no attention except so far as it
concerned Plissoud, whose situation was likely to inspire him with a
desire to counteract the coalition against Les Aigues, if only to get
his paws greased by one or the other of the two parties.

Plissoud combined with his duties of under-sheriff other occupations
which were poorly remunerated, that of agent of insurance (a new form
of enterprise just beginning to show itself in France), agent, also,
of a society providing against the chances of recruitment. His
insufficient pay and a love of billiards and boiled wine made his
future doubtful. Like Fourchon, he cultivated the art of doing
nothing, and expected his fortune through some lucky but problematic
chance. He hated the leading society, but he had measured its power.