picked the pocket of that nobleman, but owing to the extreme cold his
fingers faltered, and he was discovered. He ran like a hare and managed
easily enough to outstrip the miser, and to conceal himself in a den
where he was well known. But unfortunately the matter did not end there.
The Sieur de Ranquet was influential at Court; he was implacable as well
as avaricious, and his disposition positively forbade him to forgive any
one who had nearly picked his pocket. Besides which he knew that
Jean had often stolen his horses. He made a formal complaint at high
quarters, and a warrant was issued against Jean, offering a large sum in
silver coin to the man who should bring him, alive or dead, to justice.

Now the police were keenly anxious to make an end of Jean. They knew
he was guilty of a hundred thefts, but such was his skill that they had
never been able to convict him; he had often been put in prison, but he
had always been released for want of evidence. This time no mistake was
possible. So Jean, aware of the danger, fled from the city and sought a
gipsy encampment in a neighbouring forest, where he had friends. These
gipsy friends of his were robbers, outlaws, murderers and horse-stealers
all of them, and hardened criminals; they called themselves gipsies, but
it was merely a courtesy title.

On Christmas Eve--it was snowing hard--Jean was walking through the
forest towards the town, ready for a desperate venture, for in the
camp they were starving, and he was sick almost to death of his hunted,
miserable life. As he plunged through the snow he heard a moan, and he
saw a child sitting at the roots of a tall tree crying. He asked
what was the matter. The child--it was a little boy about five years
old--said that it had run away from home because its nurse had beaten
it, and had lost its way.