"I have her all right," said he in a hoarse whisper, his evil face lit up with a triumphant smile.
"Bravo!" muttered the other, and the next moment the two scoundrels disappeared in the darkness.
They went together as far as the gaudy van, into which one of them entered, while the other, carrying his burden, walked rapidly away out into the country over the silent deserted roads.
The day dawned, and at an early hour the occupants of the other vans began to bestir themselves. The fair was over. There were no more performances to be given. They were free to do as they pleased. Each party had its own plans. This one would hurry off to another place, and continue the campaign. That one would take a few days' rest in some quiet spot. One was going north, and another south. But they were all going somewhere. It was no use staying any longer at Beaulieu, nor coming back there again until next year.
In the midst of all this bustle, however, there was no sign of life about the Tamby van. Although it was after eight o'clock they still slept on when they were wont to be up and about at six.
Meanwhile, Nalla over at the stables was calling for his young owners with persistent and ear-splitting trumpetings. The sagacious creature knew very well that this tardiness was something altogether out of the usual, and he proclaimed his anxiety to the world. He was saying as plainly as he could:
"There must be something wrong. Won't somebody find out what it is? I never knew Cæsar and Abel to be so late giving me my breakfast."
"Why—what can be the matter with that big brute?" the other mountebanks asked impatiently. "He's making such a tremendous row!" But none of them were wise enough to catch his meaning, and institute inquiry.
Finally, about nine o'clock, Cæsar awoke, feeling very stupid, and having a dull headache. He rubbed his eyes, yawned widely, and looked about him. There were Nadine and Abel, still sound asleep beside the table with their heads pillowed upon their arms. Evidently no one had gone to bed. But where was Lydia?