"To-morrow morning, instead of leaving the farm, I will complain of a pain which prevents me from walking. If they will not believe me, I'll show them the wound which I have always had since I smashed the 'loop of my darbies,' and which is always painful to me. I'll say it is a burn I had from a red-hot bar when I was a workman, and they'll believe me. I'll remain at the farm part of the day, whilst Tortillard looks about him. When the evening comes on, and the little wench goes out as usual with the priest, I'll say I'm better, and fit to go away. Tortillard and I will follow the young wench at a distance, and await your coming to us here. As she will know us already, she will have no mistrust when she sees us. We will speak to her, Tortillard and I; and, when once within reach of my arms, I will answer for the rest. She's caught safe enough, and the thousand francs are ours. That is not all. In two or three days we can 'give the office' of the farm to Barbillon and some others, and share with them if they get any 'swag,' as it will be me who put them on the 'lay.'" "Well done, No-Eyes! No one can come up to you," said the Chouette, embracing the Schoolmaster. "Your plan is capital! Tell you what, _fourline_, when you are done up and old, you must turn consulting 'prig'; you will earn as much money as a 'big-wig.' Come, kiss your old woman, and be off as quick as you may, for these joskins go to sleep with their poultry. I shall go to Barbillon; and to-morrow, at four o'clock, we will be at the cross-road with the 'trap,' unless he is nabbed for having assisted Gros-Boiteux and the Skeleton to 'do for' the milk-woman's husband in the Rue de la Vieille-Draperie. But if he can't come, another can, for the pretended hackney-coach belongs to the man in mourning who has used it before. A quarter of an hour after we get to the cross-road, I will be here and wait for you." "All right! Good-by till to-morrow, Chouette." "I had nearly forgot to give the wax to Tortillard, if there is any lock to get the print of at the farm. Here, chickabiddy, do you know how to use it?" said the one-eyed wretch to Tortillard, as she gave him a piece of wax. "Yes, yes, my father showed me how to use it. I took for him the print of the lock of the little iron chest which my master, the quack doctor, keeps in his small closet." "Ah, that's all right; and, that the wax may not stick, do not forget to moisten the wax after you have warmed it well in your hand." "I know all about it," replied Tortillard. "To-morrow, them, _fourline_," said the Chouette. "To-morrow," replied the Schoolmaster. The Chouette went towards the coach. The Schoolmaster and Tortillard quitted the hollow way, and bent their steps towards the farm, the lights which shone from the windows serving to guide them on their way. Strange fatality, which again brought Anselm Duresnel under the same roof with his wife, who had not seen him since his condemnation to hard labour for life!