"Let's get back to your place at once," urged "The Eel." "It will be
growing light soon, and we ought to be in before anyone gets about."

"You're right. Jean will be wondering where we are--poor, innocent
little thing," he laughed, jeeringly. "I suppose she's been
fretting--but fretting always does a woman good."

"Don't speak like that, old chap," said the other. "I don't like to hear
it."

"Ah! You always take her part. You're too chicken-hearted where women
are concerned. A woman will be your ruin one day, mark me," was Ralph's
reply. "But come along."

And they hurried forward, in the direction of Ansell's house.

Half an hour later, just before the first flush of dawn, the two men
entered the weedy courtyard, and Ansell let himself in with his key.
Their movements were stealthy; but, nevertheless, Mother Brouet, in
suspicion of the truth, for she had known _Fil-en-Quatre_ for several
years, put her head out of her door, asking:

"Halloa, my boys! Something on--eh?"

"Yes, mother," laughed Ralph lightly. "Something quite good. Keep your
eyes open, and if anybody calls, we're not receiving visitors--you
understand! And there's a couple of louis for you," he added with a
grin.

The old woman grasped the coins with her claw-like hand, saying:

"_Tres bien, m'sieur_," and the head, adorned by curlers, disappeared.

The two men then mounted the stairs on tip-toe, and Ansell noiselessly
unlocked the door of his apartment, believing Jean to be asleep.

But they found the lamp still burning as they had left it, the dirty
plates still upon the table, and the atmosphere filled by the nauseous
perfumes of petroleum.

Ralph's quick eye caught the letter lying upon the table.

"Halloa! What's this?" he cried, taking it up, glancing at the
superscription, and tearing open the envelope.

He read through the brief, farewell message; then, crushing the paper in
his hand fiercely, he stood for a few seconds without uttering a word.

"She's gone!" he exclaimed at last; "and a good job, too. I'm freer
without her; but, by Heaven! I'll make her pay for deserting me like
this! That I will!"

"Madame gone?" cried Carlier, starting in blank surprise.

"Yes."

"Well, and I don't wonder, after what you said to her last night. It was
shameful."

"That's my own affair," the other said. "It don't concern you, so we
need not discuss it."

"Where has she gone?"

"I don't know, and, moreover, I don't care. You, howeve