eman is here. I told him your ladyship would see no one;
then he bade me give your ladyship this, which he said he had brought
from Paris."

Katharina opened the door wide enough to receive the object. It was a
small ivory locket, yellow with age. Katharina's hand shook violently as
she pressed the spring to open it. She cast a hasty glance at the
miniature,--the likeness of her daughter Amelie,--then said in a
faltering voice: "You may tell the gentleman I will see him."

In a few minutes the visitor entered the pavilion.

"M. Cambray!" exclaimed the baroness.

"Yes, madame; I am Cambray, with my other name, Marquis Richard
d'Avoncourt. I am he to whom you once said: 'I shall be grateful to you
so long as I live.'"

"How--how came you here?" gasped the baroness.

"I managed to escape from my prison at Ham, went to Paris, where I saw
your daughter--"

"You saw my daughter?" interrupted the baroness, excitedly. "Did you
speak to her? Oh, tell me--tell me what you know about her."

"You shall hear all directly, madame. I told the countess that I
intended to search for her mother, and asked if she had any message to
send to her."

"Did she send a letter with you?" again interrupted the baroness.

"She did, madame. But before I give it to you I should like to have a
shovel of hot coals and a bit of camphor."

"But why--why?" demanded the baroness.

"I will tell you. Do you know what Napoleon brought home with him from
the bloody battle of Eilau?"

"I have not heard."

"The 'influenza.' I dare say you have never even heard the name; but you
will very soon hear it often enough! It is a pestilential disease that
is rather harmless where it originated, but when it takes hold of a
strange region it becomes a deadly pestilence--as in Paris, where a
special hospital has been established for patients with the disease. It
was in this hospital I found your daughter as a nurse."

"_Jesu Maria!_" shrieked the mother, in a tone of agony. "A nurse in
that pest-house?"

"Yes," nodded the marquis. Then he took from his pocket a letter, and
added: "She wrote this to you from there."

The baroness eagerly extended her hand to take the letter.

"Would it not be better to fumigate it first?" said the marquis.

"No, no; I am not afraid! Give it to me, I beg of you!"

She caught the letter from his hand, tore it open, and read:

"DEAR LITTLE MAMA: What sort of a life are you leading out yonder
in that strange