after a slight pause,
during which he was obviously pondering over his daughter's suggestion.

"It won't be any use, father," Crystal said with a sigh. "The whole
thing has been organised, I feel sure, and the head that planned this
abominable robbery will know how to place his booty in safety."

Whereupon the Comte sighed, for he was too well-bred to curse in the
presence of his daughter and his sister, Mme. la Duchesse had said
nothing all this while: nor did she offer any comment upon the
mysterious occurrence all the time that the next stage of the wearisome
journey proceeded.

VIII

Less than an hour later the coach came to a halt once more.

M. le Comte woke up with a start.

"My God!" he exclaimed, "what is it now?"

Crystal had not been asleep: her thoughts were too busy, her brain too
much tormented with trying to find some plausible answer to the riddle
which agitated her: "Who had planned this abominable robbery? Was it
indeed Victor de Marmont himself? or had a greater, a mightier mind than
his discovered the secret of this swift journey to Paris and ordered the
clever raid upon the treasure?"

The rumble of the wheels had--though she was awake--prevented her from
hearing the rapid approach of a number of horses in the wake of the
coach, until a peremptory: "Halt! in the name of the Emperor!" suddenly
chased every other thought away; like her father she murmured: "My God!
what is it now?"

This time there was no mystery, there would be no puzzlement as to the
meaning of this fresh attack. The air was full of those sounds that
denote the presence of many horses and of many men; there was, too, the
clinking of metal, the champing of steel bits, the brief words of
command which proclaimed the men to be soldiers.

They appeared to be all round the coach, for the noise of their presence
came from everywhere at once.

Already the Comte had put his head out of the window: "What is it now?"
he asked again, more peremptorily this time.

"In the name of the Emperor!" was the loud reply.

"We do not halt in the name of an usurper," said the Comte. "En avant,
Pierre!"

"You urge those horses on at your peril, coachman," was the defiant
retort.

A quick word of command was given, there was more clanking of metal,
snorting of horses, loud curses from Pierre on the box, and the
commanding voice spoke again:

"M. le Comte de Cambray!"

"That is my name!" replied the Comte. "And who is it, pray, who