out of the
noisy traffic of the Rue de Rivoli, "I'll tell you how I expect to find
Alice. I'm going to find her through the sister of Father Anselm."

"The sister of Father Anselm!" exclaimed the other.

"Certainly. Priests have sisters, didn't you know that? Ha, ha! She's a
hairdresser on the Rue Tronchet, kind-hearted woman with children of her
own. She comes to see the Bonnetons and is fond of Alice. Well, she'll know
where the girl has gone, and I propose to make her tell me."

"To make her?"

"Oh, she'll want to tell me when she understands what this means to her
brother. Hello! Here's the telegraph office! Just a minute."

He sprang lightly from the cab and hurried across the sidewalk. At the same
moment Coquenil lifted his hand and brought it down quickly, twice, in the
direction of the doorway through which Groener had passed. And a moment
later Tignol was in the telegraph office writing a dispatch beside the wood
carver.

"I've telegraphed the Paris agent of a big furniture dealer in Rouen,"
explained the latter as they drove on, "canceling an appointment for
to-morrow. He was coming on especially, but I can't see him--I can't do any
business until I've found Alice. She's a sweet girl, in spite of
everything, and I'm very fond of her." There was a quiver of emotion in his
voice.

"Are you going to the hairdresser's now?" asked Matthieu.

"Yes. Of course she may refuse to help me, but I _think_ I can persuade her
with you to back me up." He smiled meaningly.

"I? What can I do?"

"Everything, my friend. You can testify that Father Anselm planned Alice's
escape, which is bad for him, as his sister will realize. I'll say to her:
'Now, my dear Madam Page'--that's her name--'you're not going to force me
and my friend, M. Matthieu--he's waiting outside, in a cab--you're not
going to force us to charge your reverend brother with abducting a young
lady? That wouldn't be a nice story to tell the commissary of police, would
it? You're too intelligent a woman, Madam Page, to allow such a thing,
aren't you?' And she'll see the point mighty quick. She'll probably drive
right back with us to Notre-Dame and put a little sense into her brother's
shaven head. It's four o'clock now," he concluded gayly; "I'll bet you we
have Alice with us for dinner by seven, and it will be a good dinner, too.
Understand you dine with us, M. Matthieu."

The man's effrontery was prodigious and there was so much plausibility in
his g