It was a still dark night without a star showing in the heavens, and the camp of the mountebanks was as silent as a graveyard. Not a light shone in any of the other vans. Tired out by their week's work the occupants slept as sound as logs.
About one o'clock, two dark forms glided as noiselessly as shadows towards the Tamby van, and on getting close to it, halted to listen intently for a moment.
"Are you sure of your work, Fritsch?" whispered one in a deep voice to the other.
"Perfectly sure, Wilhelm," was the cautiously spoken reply. "I gave them a dose that would keep them asleep until nine o'clock anyway, and by that time I will have such a long start that they will never overtake me."
It was, in fact, the man who had put his van in the place the Tambys had first taken, and who, on being compelled to get out again, had determined to be revenged. Aided by his partner, he was now about to carry out his nefarious design, having succeeded in drugging the coffee they had drunk at their supper, so that they were almost insensible, and perfectly helpless.
"Very well, then," said Wilhelm, "let us go ahead, and you understand that we will meet you in the forest of Trefflieu three days hence."
Fritsch glanced anxiously about in every direction, and bent his ear to listen for the slightest sound.
"You hear nothing, eh?" he whispered to his accomplice.
"No—nothing. The coast is clear, hurry up!" responded the other.
Moving stealthily Fritsch ascended the steps of the van, and, finding the door unfastened, for sleep had come upon the occupants too suddenly for them to shut and bolt it as was their custom, he slipped inside, making his way with utmost caution. The lamp still burned dimly, and by its light he could find at once that for which he had come. He was busy only for a moment, and then he reappeared at the door bearing in his arms a large bundle wrapped in a shawl.