“I don’t know yet, I must think it over, and once my plan is settled, I will let you know by Paulet. Is that agreed?” “Agreed!” “Nothing more to do here then. Let’s be off and have a cosy drink; it’ll be warmer than here, what say you?” “Now you’re talking. Let’s hook it”—and thus the sitting was dissolved. Threatening dire disaster to Père Moche at the beginning, it had ended finally in a blaze of triumph for that astute scoundrel. Fandor found it hard to recover from his wonder and surprise; true, his poor body was aching and stiff and cramped, and his mind was feeling the numbing effects of this physical distress, patiently borne, but prolonged almost beyond human endurance. However, Fandor was young and energetic, and very soon, by dint of clinging to the chain and so stretching himself vigorously, he had restored the requisite suppleness to legs and arms and loins; he was making ready, grasping the spar of the _Marie-Salope_, to slip down to the deck when, looking before him, he caught sight of a shadowy figure returning hurriedly to the dredger. In a moment he was curled up once more in the bottom of the bucket, but by tilting this over side-ways, he managed to secure a still better view than before. It was a wise precaution, and it proved useful. There was no doubt about it; some member of the gang was coming back, after leaving his confederates under some pretext or other, to return to Paris by themselves. But who was it? and what was he after? For all the cool presence of mind that characterized him, Fandor with difficulty stifled the cry that rose to his lips. It was Moche! it was indeed Moche, who, after accompanying the apaches for five hundred yards or so as far as the fork of the roads that lead in different directions to Paris and to Alfort, had announced in the most natural way in the world: “I am expected at Alfort, so I must leave you here. I’m not in your bad books any more?” “No, no!... to-morrow’s the day?” “To-morrow or next day, not a day later. So once again: Fantômas for ever!” “Yes, Fantômas for ever!” echoed “Big Ernestine,” “... but only if he pays up and can prove he hasn’t choused us!” “By God! yes, we’ll keep our eyes lifting,” added the “Gasman,” completing the other worthy’s meaning. “Till we meet again!”