s. She felt without understanding.

Suddenly, she heard a strange noise. She looked around the room, dimly
lighted by a night-lamp. On the floor lay the giantess, who had drank
too much brandy. Robeccal had said a few words to her before he went
away with the lacquey. She did not seem to understand him, but fell into
a doze while he was talking. When she awoke, though by no means herself,
she determined to rise from her bed. She did so, and staggered half
across the room, then fell on the floor. Half laughing she looked about,
and met the surprised, half frightened eyes of Caillette. This was not
the first time that the young girl had surprised her in this degraded
condition but this time she was more than ever shocked, and shuddered
perceptibly.

All at once, the giantess seemed to recognize in Caillette an enemy. She
uttered a sound that was almost a growl, and, unable to stand, crawled
across the room to the girl's bed.

Caillette recoiled until she could go no further. She wanted to scream,
but her tongue clove to the roof of her mouth.

La Roulante saw her terror, and laughed. Determined to torture the
child, she began to talk.

"You want your Fanfar, don't you? Let me tell you that he cares not a
sou whether you live or die."

She stopped talking for a few minutes, and seemed to be reflecting.

"No, I won't kill you--it is not worth while. What was it that my little
Bob said to me? Where has he gone, I should like to know!"

She repeated these words over and over again. Presently she vaguely
recalled what Robeccal had last said to her.

"'He will not be long,' he said, 'he was going--' Where was he going?
Oh! for the police--Gudel and Fanfar had better look out!"

She now crawled away from the bed until she found the brandy bottle,
which she drained, all the time saying over and over confused words
about the police and papers which would cost two persons their lives.

Although Caillette did not understand, she saw that there was danger,
pressing and immediate, for both Gudel and Fanfar. She waited until La
Roulante's heavy breathing showed that she was asleep, and then the
young girl cautiously crept from her bed and to the door, which,
fortunately, was not locked. She hurried to her father's room. Some one
lay before the door. She stooped and recognized the faithful clown, who
had thus mounted guard.

"Bobichel! I must speak to my father," she whispered.

"What! is it you, little Caillette? Is ther