Loupart had hardly gone a few steps along the Rue Charbonnière, when, at the corner of the Rue de Chartres, he bumped into a passer-by who was coming down the street.
Loupart burst out laughing: "What! Can this be you, Beard? What's happened to you?"
It certainly needed a practised eye to recognise the famous leader of the Cypher gang. For the Beard, who owed his name to an abnormal hairy development, was clean shaved; in addition, he wore a soft, greenish hat and was clad in a suit with huge checks.
"You told me to make up as an American."
"I did, and you've made yourself look like a hayseed juggins. For Heaven's sake, take it off. By the way, what about young Mimile?"
"He's with us."
"Well, get him the togs of a collegian for the job at the docks. What night do we bring it off?"
"Saturday night, unless the Cooper changes the time."
Loupart bent close to the ear of his lieutenant.
"Is he—easy to recognise?"