A/N: Any argot used is in the original text. Many apologies for the late update.
Disclaimer: I do not own Les Miserables in any way, shape, or form. I own only my ideas and the arrangement of the words upon this page.
At that moment, Thénardier interrupted Bigrenaille's actions. "Don't hurt him!" he cried, right when Marius was about to fire his shot.
He repeated his words, gazing straight at the men surrounding the white-haired gentleman. Marius lowered the pistol, watching intently through the little hole in the wall. He decided that there was nothing wrong at all with waiting a few more moments. Perhaps something, someone, could intervene. That could save him from making the choice: save his love's father, or save the man who had saved his father?
The gentleman had managed to disarm and incapacitate most of the thugs in the room with his before-hidden strength. He was now sitting on the bed nearest to the window, being held there by the few remaining men. Madame Thénardier had a firm, steady grip upon his bright white hair.
Her husband turned to her. "Stay out of this, will you; you'll rip that shawl of yours," he said. She obeyed him, stepping away from the gentleman with a growl.
Thénardier then looked at his men. "Search him," he ordered. The gentleman did not offer any resistance as they began, letting them pat him down. They discovered, though, that he had nothing on him but a purse with nothing but six francs in it and a white handkerchief, which Thénardier took for his own.
"No wallet!" he exclaimed, to which one of the "chimney specialists" replied: "No watch, too."
Thénardier then turned to his men. "Tie him down, will you, to the bed." They followed his order, tying the gentleman to the foot of the bed, his arms behind his back. Then, he walked around to the gentleman, his mouth set in a wry smile. "Let me talk to him, all right?"
The men obeyed, stepping back to the door.
"You're in the wrong, for trying to escape like that," Thénardier said. "You could've hurt yourself. But now, don't worry, we're going to have a little chat. First, though, I must tell you something that quite surprises me: you haven't said even a little protest. That's kind of strange, you know. You ought to have cried 'thief', and that would've been fine. It's expected. And, you know, if you had, then we wouldn't have tied you up like this, we wouldn't have touched you a bit. Not a bit. And it's kind of strange. You know, if you had called out, the police would've come. And then, there comes the law. Seems to me, at least, like you don't want to meet the police this fine evening. I reckon you're hiding something, then. Maybe we've got a common thing. An understanding." He paused, gazing harshly at the gentleman. He seemed oddly refined to Marius, at least for being a soldier-turned-thief.
The gentleman did not reply. He simply sat there, tied up on the bed. His face was blank and well-composed; he was the master of his own emotions.
Thénardier moved to the stove, suddenly removing the screen. From there, the gentleman and Marius both could see a white-hot chisel, hot within the stove. Thénardier then walked back over to the gentleman, sitting down very close to him.
"See, I reckon we could come to an understanding," he continued. "I apologize for getting angry there; I just got so carried away. I wanted money, and here you were, a millionaire! But I suppose I forget to think about your expenses. Everyone has expenses, and surely even you do as well. And I'm not going to ruin you, for I'm just not that kind of person. So, I've decided to compromise with you. How does giving me two hundred thousand francs sound?" He looked to the gentleman, who did not reply. "I think that's a fair amount for you. And once you've given it to me, you can go on free. We won't harm you at all if you comply. And here's what else: I ask for one thing only. Write down what I tell you to. And I do know you can write, so no excuses or something."
He found an inkwell, pen, and a sheet of paper in one of the drawers. He did not close the drawer, and Marius could just see the flash of a knife within it. He placed the sheet of paper on the table in front of the gentleman.
"Write as I tell you," he commanded.
"Well," the gentleman said, finally speaking at last. "How can I write if my hands are tied?"
"You're right!" Thénardier exclaimed. "Untie his hands," he ordered one of the men. Bigrenaille moved forward, untying his right hand. Thénardier dipped the pen in ink and handed it to the gentleman.
"Write as I tell you," he repeated. "You won't go free until you do, I warn you. Now, I will dictate."
The gentleman picked up the pen.
"My daughter," Thénardier began. Then he paused, looking to the gentleman. "Scratch that, put 'my dear daughter'".
The gentleman did as was commanded of him, and continued to write as Thénardier dictated.
Marius was surprised to find that the letter seemed to be directed at his love, the daughter of the gentleman, whom Thénardier called "The Lark". This was interesting information. The gentleman signed the letter, saying his name aloud. It was "Urbain Fabre", which Thénardier accepted without a qualm. Monsieur Fabre wrote out the address, then handed it off to Madame Thénardier and the man with the ax to deliver as Thénardier requested.
Outside, on the rue de la Barrière-des-Gobelins, Javert and his men (minus Caron and Leduc) lay in wait, concealed behind the trees.
Gavroche turned to look at Javert, his eyes wide with anticipation. "When 'ill i'all start?" he asked, his voice a soft whisper.
Javert looked sharply down at him. He raised a finger to his lips in warning, for if the men in the flat heard anything at all, they would likely run. He then bent down close to Gavroche's ear. "Soon enough, as soon as Marius Pontmercy orders it to begin," he murmured. He then straightened back up to his full height, staring intently up to the flat.
He was ready. But it seemed as if Marius was not, for he had not given the signal yet.
The officers were ready as well, scattered as they were amongst the trees.