e I cease to know you. Keep that gay young lover
of yours out of mischief; he will never again get off as easily as he
did the other day."

"Thanks, Monsieur l'Inspecteur!" said Mlle. Fouchette, very glad
indeed now that the lantern was not turned on her.

"Allons!" he cried, looking about him. "And my men, mademoiselle?"

"I would put two at the door where you met us--out of sight--and leave
two in the Rue St. Jacques where we shall enter,--until you see for
yourself,--the coast is clear."

"Good!" said he, and he gave the necessary orders.

Inspector Loup issued from the Rue Soufflot entrance an hour later
with a look of keen satisfaction.

Between the royalists on the one hand, and the republicans on the
other, there were gigantic possibilities for an official of Inspector
Loup's elasticity of conscience.

He had first of all enjoined strict silence on the part of Mlle.
Fouchette and Jean Marot.

"For the public safety," he said.

During his inspection of the premises he had found opportunity to
secretly transfer an envelope to the hand of Mlle. Fouchette. For the
chief of the Secret System was too clever not to see the shoe that
pinched Mlle. Fouchette's toes, and, while despising her weakness, was
loyal to his obligation.

As soon as Mlle. Fouchette had bidden Jean good-night and found
herself in her own room, she took this envelope from her pocket and
drew near the lamp.

It was marked "To be opened to-morrow."

She felt it nervously. It crackled. She squeezed it between her thumb
and forefinger. She held it between her eyes and the light. In vain
the effort to pierce its secrets.

The old tower clock behind the Pantheon mumbled two.

"Dame!" she said, "it is to-morrow!"

And she hastily ripped the missive open.

Something bluish white fluttered to the floor. She picked it up.

It was a new, crisp note of five hundred francs!

She trembled so that she sank into the nearest chair, crushing the
paper in her hand. Her little head was so dizzy--really--she could
scarcely bring it to bear upon anything.

Except one thing,--that this unexpected wealth stood between her and
what an honest young woman dreads most in this world!

The tears slowly trickled down the pale cheeks,--tears for which it
is to be feared only the angels in heaven gave Mlle. Fouchette due
credit.

Suddenly she started up in alarm. But it was only some belated lodger,
staggering on the stairs. She examined the lock on her