the family's goal. It thus vexed
Linieres exceedingly that the Chevalier should have been mixed up in a
duel about an unknown girl. He believed it a clever stroke to hire
Picard, the Chevalier's own valet, to spy upon him.

"How is your master's conduct?" asked the Count.

"Scandalous, perfectly scandalous!" replied Picard in a tone of deep
dejection. "Once indeed he had a few gentleman associates and went to
gay parties, but now he is quite moral, and just as studious as a
lawyer's clerk. Really I must leave the Chevalier," continued Picard,
"his principles are such as I cannot accept!"

"Then I will re-engage you--on one condition. That is, that you remain
a while with my nephew and tell me everything he does. I have heard,
on the contrary, that--"

Picard almost danced a pas seul. "Oh, that is the way the wind lies!
The sly dog!--And I thought of leaving him. She must be a saucy and
jaunty little minx, whoever she is! Oh, yes, I will find out
everything that you require."

With eye to keyhole the valet reporter saw the frequent innocent
parleys of Maurice and Henriette, which he construed as an intrigue.
He was quite ecstatic with happiness now. The police Prefect, finding
his suspicions privately confirmed, bluntly refused police aid to the
Chevalier's hunt for Louise. He spoke pointedly and (as he hoped) with
effect:

"Monsieur, you must give up your association with these common people.
I have other plans for you that will shortly mature."

The angry Count could not be crossed. De Vaudrey's sole hope lay in
his Aunt.

* * * * *

Ceaselessly Henriette spent her days in trying to trace Louise. Her
quest became the neighborhood gossip. Strangers interested themselves
and offered clues to herself and the Chevalier--clues that proved
quite futile.

To her doorstep a great pock-marked man, bushy-browed and of knob-like
visage, was walking one day with her finicky dandified neighbor M.
Robespierre. As he passed, the titan turned and inquired kindly:

"Are you the little girl who lost her sister?"

He spoke with a gentle sympathy that touched her and even his cursing
reference to the abductions: "Damned aristocrats! The people are going
to stop that sort of thing!" did not phase her, for she looked up into
his face and trustfully replied:

"You are such a big man I should think you could do almost anything!"

Robespierre was pawing at the pock-marked one's coat,