"Liar! Aren't you ashamed to be in a funk with us?... Ever since this blessed Mother Toulouche has sold winkles and many other things, ever since she began to make a little purse for herself, which must be a big purse by now, a purse everyone here has sweated to fill to the brim, she has always distrusted us!... You say you haven't a watch! I tell you, you've got dozens of 'em!..." Big Ernestine interrupted. "It's a half-hour over the hour agreed...." A shudder ran through the assembly: Nibet, finger on lip, made a sign that they were to listen. Then, in the mushroom bed, no longer in use, which the band of Numbers had recently adopted as their meeting place, a profound silence fell.... "There they are!" said Nibet. Big Ernestine leaped up, left the fire, advanced to the far end of the cellar, and imitated the cry of a screech owl to perfection. There was a similar cry in response. "It's all right. They're here!" she said. She returned to the fire and sat down. But Nibet seized the girl and forced her to get up again. "Go along with you! Quick march!" he said roughly. She protested. Nibet stopped her. "Oh, we can't stand listening to you!... Ho there, Sailor!... Come here!... Sit down on this plank! You, the Beadle, and me--we're to be the judges.... Beard makes the accusation: and, if her heart tells her to, Ernestine will defend him." "I'd rather spit at the tell-tale!... You can tear him to bits as far as I'm concerned!" cried the girl. "There's nothing disgusts me so much as a tell-tale!" The hooligans crowded round big Ernestine. They applauded her ironically; for they all knew that, once upon a time, she had been strongly suspected of having dealings with, what they called, "The dirty lot at the Bobby's Nest." * * * * * Silence fell once more. They could hear the rasp of the rope unrolling from a hand windlass attached to an enormous bucket. This was the primitive lift. Moments passed. The hooligans had formed a circle beneath the black hole where the bucket moved up and down. "It goes, old Beard?" questioned Nibet, gazing upwards. "It goes, old bloke!" "Brought the game?" "That's what we're sending down now!..." "That's a bit of all right!" Sailor now seized the trussed Jules from the bucket and flung him on the ground. "Damaged goods, that--eh?" he laughed evilly. The Beadle, Beard, and Emilet were coming down in turn. The group below bent curiously over the prisoner. "He's soft--that sort is!" cried Ernestine. And tapping him on the face with her foot, big Ernestine tried to make Jules show signs of life. Beard dropped out of the bucket and stopped the game. "Let's see, Ernestine?... Stop it now!" After gripping the hand of each comrade in turn, after hugging a bottle and draining it in a long draught, emptying it to the dregs, Beard flung it aside. "Let's get to work--no time to waste!... If we finish him off, we'll have to get rid of him before morning!"