y time a gaslight shone on them. For the next day was the birthday
of the divine Infant at whose cradle wise men and simple shepherds alike
adored.

"My poor little Raoul! Poor darling! Where is my boy?" repeated the
father as in his anguish he dug his nails into the cushions of the
carriage.

At that moment all his titles and decorations, his honors, his millions,
were valueless to him. He had one single idea burning in his brain. "My
poor child! Where is my child?"

At last he reached the Prefecture of Police. But no one was there--the
office had been deserted for some time.

"I am M. Godefroy, deputy from L'Eure--My little boy is lost in Paris;
a child of four years. I must see the Prefect." He slipped a louis into
the hand of the _concierge_.

The good old soul, a veteran with a gray mustache, less for the sake
of the money than out of compassion for the poor father, led him to the
Prefect's private apartments. M. Godefroy was finally ushered into the
room of the man in whom were centred all his hopes. He was in evening
dress, and wore a monocle; his manner was frigid and rather pretentious.
The distressed father, whose knees trembled through emotion, sank into
an armchair, and, bursting into tears, told of the loss of his boy--told
the story stammeringly and with many breaks, for his voice was choked by
sobs.

The Prefect, who was also father of a family, was inwardly moved at the
sight of his visitor's grief, but he repressed his emotion and assumed a
cold and self-important air.

"You say, sir, that your child has been missing since four o'clock?"

"Yes."

"Just when night was falling, confound it. He isn't at all precocious,
speaks very little, doesn't know where he lives, and can't even
pronounce his own name?"

"Unfortunately that is so."

"Not far from Asnieres gate? A suspected quarter. But cheer up. We have
a very intelligent _Commissaire de Police_ there. I'll telephone to
him."

The distressed father was left alone for five minutes. How his temples
throbbed and his heartbeat!

Then, suddenly, the Prefect reappeared, smiling with satisfaction.
"Found!"

Whereupon M. Godefroy rushed to the Prefect, whose hand he pressed till
that functionary winced with the pain.

"I must acknowledge that we were exceedingly fortunate. The little chap
is blond, isn't he? Rather pale? In blue velvet? Black felt hat, with a
white feather in it?"

"Yes, yes; that's he. That's my little Raoul."

"Well,