cessity, unable to
return to his own country, and not knowing where else to turn, he
determined to go to Tout-Petit, and seek assistance from Fargis, as his
ally had once advised.

He had no money left to pay his way there, but accidentally hearing
that a caravan, consisting of a circus, mountebanks, and the usual
paraphernalia of a fair, was about to start for Tout-Petit, and that a
strong man was wanted in the circus troupe, he offered his services, and
was accepted.

But times had changed since the Dutchman, Thomas's former
fellow-conspirator, had known Fargis. The past had been effectually
buried, Fargis hoped; the last spark of it was the help his smack was
intended to give in the conveying away of the orchid. Thomas's many
delays in securing the plant had frustrated this plan, but Fargis had
done his best. He considered all indebtedness wiped out henceforward. He
received Thomas ungraciously, therefore, and beyond a vague promise that
he would speak to some other skippers, Thomas had no satisfaction from
his visit. Gloomy, and not a little resentful--for he had come far on
what he considered his friend's misrepresentation--he wandered aimlessly
towards the Fontaine des Eaux. Too busy all day to get away, it was only
when the afternoon was far advanced that he managed to go down to see
Fargis. The dancing had, therefore, begun before he reached the valley.
Strolling up towards the booths, he watched the dancers with a sort of
inward anger because people could be so happy when he was so wretched.
All at once he caught sight of the group in the shed. His first
indifferent glance changed into a look of astonishment. He had not heard
of the loss of Estelle, never having dared to write home to his
broken-hearted mother. He stood staring, puzzled to behold Lord
Lynwood's daughter among all these peasants.

How did she get there? Who were her companions? Why had she been sent
from home? His brain worked over the riddle as he lingered under the
shadow of the trees and gazed at the well-known face of the child. He
found it a hard nut to crack. Suddenly his Dutch friend's question in
the cave, just before their rush to save the box with the orchid,
recurred to his memory: 'Is not the Earl's daughter an heiress?'

She has been stolen, then! For a moment Thomas was 'struck all of a
heap,' as he would have expressed it. He was blinded by the flash that
seemed to reveal to him what had happened.

Creeping up closer, he lis