ho took such pains and precautions to
carry through their unlawful operations to a successful issue. Already
the Cooper, a member of the confraternity who had had his glorious hour
in the famous days of Chaleck and Loupart, had scarcely left prison
retirement before he had been nabbed again, owing to the far too sharp
eyes of the French custom-house officials on the Belgian frontier.
Others of the band were also under lock and key again: it really seemed
as if Mother Toulouche and her circle were being strictly watched by the
police ... and now here was Emilet who had come a regular cropper in his
aeroplane--no doubt about it!
Mother Toulouche was set on knowing the rights of it:
"But what has happened to Emilet exactly?"
She called Cranajour. The queer fellow came forward from the back store,
where he had been loafing: he had a bewildered air.
"Cranajour," said Mother Toulouche, putting a sou in his hand, "hurry
off and buy me an evening paper! Now be quick about it!... Don't
forget.... Make a knot in your handkerchief to remind a stupid head!"
"Oh, don't be afraid, Mother Toulouche," declared Cranajour, "I shan't
forget!" He nodded to big Ernestine, and vanished as by magic into the
darkness, for night had fallen.
Scarcely had Cranajour gone, than a surly looking individual slipped
into the store, not by the quay entrance, but through the back store, to
which he had gained access by the dark passage leading to the rue de
Harlay.
His collar was turned up as though he were cold; his cap was drawn well
over his eyes, thus his face was almost entirely hidden.
Having barred the door on the quay side of the store, Mother Toulouche
joined big Ernestine and the newcomer:
"Well, Nibet, anything fresh?" she asked.
Removing his cap and lowering his collar Nibet's crabbed visage glowered
on the two women: it was the Depot warder right enough:
"Bad," he growled between his teeth: "Things are hot right at the
Palais!"
"Things to worry about--to do with comrades committed for trial?"
questioned big Ernestine.
Nibet shrugged and threw a glance of disdain at the girl:
"You're going silly! It's this Dollon mess-up!"
The warder gave them an account of what had happened. The two women were
all ears, as they followed Nibet's story of events which had thrown the
whole legal world into a state of commotion: incomprehensible
occurrences, which threatened to turn an ordinary murder case into one
of the most m
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