"The bank-notes."
"The bank-notes?"
"Oh, I'm getting sick of you! Here, lads...."
They laid the old fellow flat, tore off the rags that composed his clothes, felt and searched him all over.
There was nothing on him.
"You thief and you robber!" yelled old Goussot. "What have you done with it?"
The old beggar seemed more dazed than ever. Too cunning to confess, he kept on whining:
"What do you want of me?... Money? I haven't three sous to call my own...."
But his eyes, wide with wonder, remained fixed upon his clothes; and he himself seemed not to understand.
The Goussots' rage could no longer be restrained. They rained blows upon him, which did not improve matters. But the farmer was convinced that Trainard had hidden the money before turning himself into the scarecrow: