Loupart was taking a fruit cure. It was about ten in the morning, and along the Rues Charbonnière, Chartres and Goutte d'Or the women hawkers, driven from central Paris by the police, were making for the high ground of the populous quarters. Loupart strolled along the pavement, making grabs at the barrows, picking a handful of strawberries or cherries as he went by. If by chance the dealer complained, she was quickly silenced by a chaffing speech or a stern glance. The hooligan stopped at the "Comrades' Tryst," in front of which Mother Toulouche had set out a table with a large basket of winkles. "Want to try them?" suggested the old woman on catching sight of Josephine's lover. "Hand me a pin," he answered harshly, and in a few moments had emptied half a dozen shells. "Friend Square, I've something to say to you." "Out with it, then." But before the old woman could reply, a noise of roller skates coming down the pavement made her turn. Loupart looked round with a smile. "Why here comes the auto-bus," he cried. A cripple moving at a great pace came plump into the basket of shell-fish. The speed with which he travelled had earned him the nickname of the Motor. He was said to be an old railway mechanic, who had lost both legs in an accident. "Motor," cried Mother Toulouche, "I have to be away for ten minutes or so; look after my basket, will you?" Following the old dame to her den Loupart entered with difficulty, on account of the great quantity of heterogeneous objects with which it was crowded. The product of innumerable thefts lay heaped up pell-mell in this illicit bazaar. Dame Toulouche, having shut the door, plunged into her subject. "Big Ernestine is furious with you, Loupart." "If she's threatening me," the hooligan replied, "I'll soon fix her." "No, big Ernestine didn't want to fight, but she was annoyed at the public affront put upon her by Josephine's lover when he drove her from 'The Good Comrades' the evening before last without any reason." "Without any reason!" growled Loupart. "Then what was her business with those spies, the Sapper and Nonet?" "That can't be! Not the Sapper!" "Spies, I tell you; they belong to headquarters." The old receiver of stolen goods cast up her eyes. "And they looked such decent people, too! Who can one trust?" Loupart, for reply, suddenly picked up a scarf pin set with a diamond, and, tossing the old Woman a five-dollar piece, said as he left the room: "You can tell Ernestine that I bear her no malice." 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?"