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?" "No chance of making an error. Lean, togged in dark clothes and with one goggle eye." Loupart touched the "Beard's" arm. "First-class tickets for everybody." "How many will there be?" "Five or six." "Women, too?" "No, only my girl. But you can bet we shan't be bored!" With these words, Loupart walked away. He stopped a little later at the second house in the Rue Goutte d'Or, a decent-looking house with carpet on the stairs. On reaching the fifth floor, he knocked several times on the door facing him, but without reply. This annoyed him; he didn't like Josephine to sleep late, and he expected her to be always ready when he condescended to come and fetch her. Josephine was a pretty burnisher from Belleville, and Loupart, who had met her at a ball in that quarter six months ago had made her his favourite mistress. Among the bullies and drabs that frequented the place, Josephine had appeared to him seductive, charming, almost virginal, and the popular hooligan had promptly chosen her from her sisters of the underworld. Certainly Josephine had no reason to complain of her lover's conduct, and if at times he demanded of her a blind submission, he never treated her with that fierce brutality which characterised most of his fellows. But if Josephine had felt any leaning toward a good life, or any scruples of conscience, she must necessarily have thrown them overboard as soon as her connection with Loupart began. With a different start in life she might have become an honest little woman, but circumstances made her the mistress of a hooligan ring-leader, and, everything considered, she had a certain pride in being so, without imitating the vulgar and brutal behaviour of her companions. At the third summons, Loupart, none too patient, drove the door in with a vigorous shove of his shoulders. Josephine's apartment, a comfortable and spacious room, with a fine bird's-eye view of Paris, was empty. Fancying his mistress was at some neighbour's gossiping, he bawled: "Josephine! Come here!" Heads appeared, looking anxiously out of rooms on the same floor. "Where is Josephine?" Loupart cried. Mme. Guinon came forward. "I don't know," she replied, stammering. "She complained of pains in her stomach last evening, and I was told she's gone." "Gone? Gone where?" stormed Loupart.