The old receiver went back to her store, and was starting on a queer sort of job when the door, which led on to the quay, burst open before a panting, breathless individual. He ran right up the store and stopped short.

Mother Toulouche had seized the first thing she could find, and had taken up a defensive attitude. Her weapon was a great ancient cavalry sabre.

But the new-comer intended no harm – quite the contrary! After an instinctive recoil, he leaned against a table and wiped his forehead, breathing in gasps, incapable of pronouncing a syllable.

Mother Toulouche had now recognised him:

“Ah! It’s you Redhead!... And not a bit too soon either! I’ve been waiting for you this last half-hour.

Ernestine will be here in ten minutes’ time! However is it you are so late?”

Redhead was well named! His bullet-head was covered with russet-red hair, cut very short; his complexion was a good match; his bloated cheeks and his potato-shaped nose were covered with red patches; his shaven chin was a tawny red; round his little gimlet eyes was a fringe of red lashes: it was a bestial face.

He was hatless; above his waistcoat with metal buttons he wore a black coat; his trousers had a yellow line down them: he was evidently a servant, wearing the livery of some big house. The fellow was slowly recovering his breath, but he continued to wipe great drops of sweat off his narrow forehead; he was shaking all over, and his morose countenance was twitching and contracting nervously.

“Well, what’s your news? Good or bad?” questioned Mother Toulouche in a brutal tone.

Redhead replied almost inaudibly:

“That depends!... it’s good on the whole.” A gleam of greed shone in the old receiver’s eyes.

“Got a bit of tin on her back, that woman – eh?” Redhead nodded a “yes”. Thereupon Mother Toulouche went into her back store and returned with a claret glass filled to the brim with rum.

“Shoot that down your throat! That’ll put you right!” When he had swallowed the bumper he seemed to gain courage, and said:

“If I didn’t get here sooner it’s because I had to wait – but I saw the little thing....”

“What’s her name?”

“Nadine,” replied Redhead, and added: “A pretty little vixen too!... She’s got some fire in her eyes!”

“What’s that to do with it? “interrupted Mother Toulouche. “You don’t mean to tell me you were able to make her gabble a bit?” she queried contemptuously.

Redhead bridled: “Likely, since I know everything now... and I’m her sweetheart, let me tell you!” Mother Toulouche said in a jeering tone”

“You don’t tell me! You!”

“Oh,” replied Redhead, “it’s just a way of speaking.

She’s a good little thing – there’s nothing to it, you know!”

“So much the worse!” declared Mother Toulouche.