A/N: Apologies for the late update. Any argot used may be found in the text. This will probably be the last update for a VERY long time, due to real life obligations. My sincere apologies for this, but real life must come first for now.
Disclaimer: I do not own Les Miserables in any way, shape or form. I only own my ideas and the arrangement of the words upon this page.
Thénardier had begun pacing up and down the little room, staying in front of the table. At once, he wrapped his thin, long-fingered hand around the candle stick, picking it up and throwing it down onto the mantelpiece. The light almost went out and the wax flew all across the wall.
He then turned to the gentleman, a strange sort of look in his eye. Marius nearly drew back in alarm, the glare was so threatening. Thénardier shook himself a bit, and then spoke.
"It's all done!" he cried. "We're done, done, done! You know me, regardless! I know you, I know it." He began pacing again, each round going faster and faster. "I've caught you, fair and square, monsieur the benefactor! You, the beggar not begging for alms, but giving them out! Guess you can't recognize me, but maybe this'll jog your memory enough."
He took a deep, heavy breath, and then continued with his frightening tirade. "Don't suppose it was you, and then…You took the girl, Fantine's, kid, back in 1823! The Lark, you took her from us! You had that yellow greatcoat, you did, and you had a package, filled with clothes!" He let out a little laugh. "Just like this morning, huh? Charitable, a threadbare philanthropist! Oh, suppose you don't recognize me, then. But I do. I could tell it was you, I knew it, the moment you walked on in here. It's not perfect pretty, now, is it? You acted all-so-generous, then, when you came in to our little inn in Montfermeil. And then you took our very livelihood! And that's just not enough, now, is it? Is it? You come back, now, and see us now! And you, the amazing philanthropist, the rogue, you come on back, bringing a too-big greatcoat and a few blankets! You…" He took another breath, slightly wheezing from his rant. "You're him, that dirty scoundrel of a child-snatcher!"
Thénardier began to yell, now, straight at the pale gentleman. "You're the cause of all our troubles. You took that girl of a wealthy family, oh, for obviously she was wealthy with all that money the mother gave, for only fifteen hundred francs! That's it! And you won, then, yes, I guess you won. Fair. But now, it's time for revenge, my way! I've got to laugh, now." And he did laugh, a fearsome, chilling sound. "I've got a full hand, a good one, today. Best in the house. And you've just lost the game. You've made your choice. Look how you fell into the trap, into my little game. You fell for my little letter, for poor Monsieur Fabantou."
Thénardier stopped, heaving from his shouting. He turned to look at the gentleman, as if expecting an answer. And he got one.
"I think you are quite mistaken; I've no idea what you're talking about. I am no millionaire, instead, much the opposite. I believe you have mixed me up with someone else, for I do not know you," the gentleman murmured.
Thénardier let out a groan. "You just can't see it! What trash this is! Still holding on to your make-believes and fairy tales…"
"Pardon, monsieur," the gentleman said, perfectly calm and polite. "But I daresay, I can see that you are a crook."
At that instant, Madame Thénardier rose up from the bed, face aflame. Thénardier held on tight to his chair, as if to break it. "Don't move," he growled to his wife. Then he looked again at the gentleman.
"Sure, you rich bourgeois guy, you call all of us crooks," he said. "I've got no food; I haven't eaten for three days. If that makes me a crook, then I guess it does. You, with your fancy clothes and fine foods that cost more than I've ever held in my hand. You, with your newspaper-thermometers. Fine, then, I'm a crook. But I'm also a true citizen, for I fought! I should be decorated; I was a veteran! I was at Waterloo, did you know? And I saved someone, did you hear?"
At this, Marius gave a little gasp. His father…had been saved by this man, no doubts about it now.
Thénardier continued on. "It was a count, I guess. Something like that. And he told me his name, too! But he was so soft-speaking, you know, that all I caught was his thanks! Rather a name than thanks, for thanks does not give you cash. A name, now, that can. I need money, that's it. I need money, and a lot of it. That's the truth, and by God, I'll get it."
Thénardier turned head-on to the gentleman again. "Any last words, before we get to work?" The gentleman did not respond.
Out in the hall, everyone could hear a sharp bark of laughter. It was the man with the ax, appearing now in the doorway.
"Why'd you take your mask off?" Thénardier asked gruffly.
"I wanted to laugh," the man replied. Thénardier's back was now turned away from the gentleman.
The gentleman took his action. At that moment, he kicked the chair away from himself and pushed the table away. He leaped with nimbleness to the window and opened it. He hopped onto the sill, stepping over. He was even halfway outside before the three "chimney specialists" hauled him back in. The other men walked in, standing menacingly by the gentleman.
Amongst them, Marius could just recognize Panchaud, or Bigrenaille. This one raised his club up to the gentleman's head, just about to strike.
Marius took a deep breath, offering a pray up. "Father, oh, please forgive me," he thought silently.
He raised his finger against the trigger of the pistol.