“Never mind, Adolphe!” laughed Ralph; “we’ve got a nice haul, and it was an easy job, after all. I never expected the spy to have an alarm attached to the door of his safe. He’s a wary bird, after all!”
“Let’s get back to your place at once,” urged “The Eel.” “It will be growing light soon, and we ought to be in before anyone gets about.”
“You’re right. Jean will be wondering where we are—poor, innocent little thing,” he laughed, jeeringly. “I suppose she’s been fretting—but fretting always does a woman good.”
“Don’t speak like that, old chap,” said the other. “I don’t like to hear it.”
“Ah! You always take her part. You’re too chicken-hearted where women are concerned. A woman will be your ruin one day, mark me,” was Ralph’s reply. “But come along.”
And they hurried forward, in the direction of Ansell’s house.
Half an hour later, just before the first flush of dawn, the two men entered the weedy courtyard, and Ansell let himself in with his key. Their movements were stealthy; but, nevertheless, Mother Brouet, in suspicion of the truth, for she had known Fil-en-Quatre for several years, put her head out of her door, asking:
“Halloa, my boys! Something on—eh?”
“Yes, mother,” laughed Ralph lightly. “Something quite good. Keep your eyes open, and if anybody calls, we’re not receiving visitors—you understand! And there’s a couple of louis for you,” he added with a grin.