"Have pity on me, kind sir."
"Give him something," urged Josephine.
The middle-aged lover complied and tenderly drew away the pretty girl, repeating carefully the details of the assignation:
"Lyons Station; a quarter past eight. The train leaves at twenty to nine."
Then suddenly dropping Josephine's arm:
"Now, sweetheart, you'd better hurry home to your good mother, and remember Saturday."
The outline of the portly personage faded into the night. Loupart's mistress shrugged her shoulders, turned, and made her way back to the "Tryst," where her place had been kept for her.
At the back of the tavern, the group which Nonet had joined were discussing strange doings. "The Bear," head of the band of the Cyphers, had just returned from the courthouse. He brought the latest news. Riboneau had been given ten years, but was going to try for a reduced sentence.
The talk suddenly dropped. A hubbub arose outside, a dull roar which waxed louder and louder. The sound of hurrying footsteps mingled with shrill cries and oaths. Doors in the street slammed. A few shots were fired, followed by a pause, and then the stampede began again.
Father Korn, deserting his bar, warily planted himself at the entry to his establishment, his hand on the latch of the door. He stood ready to bar entrance to any who might try to press in.