the table, deathly white. She tried to speak, but the words
failed her; it seemed to Coquenil that her eyes met his in desperate
appeal, and then, with a glance at Groener, half of submission, half of
defiance, she turned and left the room.

"Now Madam Bonneton," resumed Groener cheerfully, "while the young lady
gets into her finery we might have a little talk. There are a few
matters--er--" He looked apologetically at the others. "You and I will meet
to-morrow, M. Matthieu; I'll see what I can do for you."

"Thanks," said Matthieu, rising in response to this hint for his departure.
He bowed politely, and followed by the sacristan, went out.

"Don't speak until we get downstairs," whispered Coquenil, and they
descended the four flights in silence.

"Now, Bonneton," ordered the detective sharply, when they were in the lower
hallway, "don't ask questions, just do what I say. I want you to go right
across to Notre-Dame, and when you get to the door take your hat off and
stand there for a minute or so fanning yourself. Understand?"

The simple-minded sacristan was in a daze with all this mystery, but he
repeated the words resignedly: "I'm to stand at the church door and fan
myself with my hat. Is that it?"

"That's it. Then Tignol, who's watching in one of these doorways, the sly
old fox, will come across and join you. Tell him to be ready to move any
minute now. He'd better loaf around the corner of the church until he gets
a signal from me. I'll wait here. Now go on."

"But let me say--" began the other in mild protest. "No, no," broke in M.
Paul impatiently, "there's no time. Listen! Some one is coming down. Go,
go!"

"I'm going, M. Paul, I'm going," obeyed Bonneton, and he hurried across the
few yards of pavement that separated them from the cathedral.

Meantime, the step on the stairs came nearer. It was a light, quick step,
and, looking up, Coquenil saw Alice hurrying toward him, tense with some
eager purpose.

"Oh, M. Matthieu!" exclaimed the girl in apparent surprise. Then going
close to him she said in a low tone that quivered with emotion: "I came
after you, I must speak to you, I--I know who you are."

He looked at her sharply.

"You are M. Coquenil," she whispered.

"You saw it?" he asked uneasily.

She shook her head. "I _knew_ it."

"Ah!" with relief. "Does _he_ know?"

The girl's hands closed convulsively while the pupils of her eyes widened
and then grew small. "I'm afraid so," she murmur