"Well, I'll tell you. You know, of course, that the government is anxious; you know that Paris is preparing to stand siege if the Prussians double up Bazaine and the army of Chalons in the north. But you don't know what a pitiable fright the authorities are in. Why, Scarlett, they are scared almost to the verge of idiocy."

"They've pa.s.sed that verge," I observed.

"Yes, they have. They have had a terrible panic over the safety of the crown jewels--they were nervous enough before the robbery. And this is what they've done in secret:

"The crown jewels, the bars of gold of the reserve, the great pictures from the Louvre, the antiques of value, including the Venus of Milo, have been packed in cases and loaded on trains under heavy guard.

"Twelve of these trains have already left Paris for the war-port of Lorient. The others are to follow, one every twenty-four hours at midnight.

"Whether these treasures are to be locked up in Lorient, or whether they are to be buried in the sand-dunes along the coast, I don't know.

But I know this: a swift cruiser--the _Fer-de-Lance_--is lying off Paradise, between the light-house and the Ile de Groix, with steam up night and day, ready to receive the treasures of the government at the first alarm and run for the French possessions in Cochin-China.

"And now, perhaps, you may guess why Buckhurst is so anxious to hang around Paradise."

Of course I was startled. Speed's muttered information gave me the keys to many doors. And behind each door were millions and millions and millions of francs' worth of plunder.

Our eyes met in mute interrogation; Speed smiled.

"Of course," said I, with dry lips, "Buckhurst is devil enough to attempt anything."

"Especially if backed by Mornac," said Speed.

Suddenly the professional aspect of the case burst on me like a shower of glorious sunshine.

"Oh, for the chance!" I said, brokenly. "Speed! Think of it! Think how completely we have the thing in hand!"

"Yes," he said, with a shrug, "only we have just been kicked out of the service in disgrace, and we are now going to be fully occupied in running away from the police."

That was true enough; I had scarcely had time to realize our position as escaped suspects of the department. And with the recognition of my plight came a rush of hopeless rage, of bitter regret, and soul-sickening disappointment.

So this was the end of my career--a fugitive, disgraced, probably already hunted. This was my reward for faithful service--penniless, almost friendless, liable to arrest and imprisonment with no hope of justice from Emperor or court-martial--a banned, ruined, proscribed outcast, in blind flight.

"I've thought of the possibility of this," observed Speed, quietly.

"We've got to make a living somehow. In fact, I'm to let--and so are you."

I looked at him, too miserable to speak.

"I had an inkling of it," he said. A shrewd twinkle came into his clear, Yankee eyes; he chewed his wrecked cigar and folded his lank arms.

"So," he continued, tranquilly, blinking at the sparkling river, "I drew out all my money--and yours, too."

"Mine!" I stammered. "How could you?"

"Forged an order," he admitted. "Can you forgive me, Scarlett?"

"Forgive you! Bless your generous heart!" I muttered, as he handed me a sealed packet.

"Not at all," he said, laughing; "a crime in time saves nine--eh, Scarlett? Pocket it; it's all there. Now listen. I have made arrangements of another kind. Do you remember an application for license from the manager of a travelling American show--a Yankee circus?"

"Byram's Imperial American Circus?" I said.

"That's it. They went through Normandy last summer. Well, Byram's agent is going to meet us at Saint-Cloud. We're engaged; I'm to do ballooning--you know I worked one of the military balloons before Petersburg. You are to do sensational riding. You were riding-master in the Spahis--were you not?"

I looked at him, almost laughing. Suddenly the instinct of my vagabond days returned like a sweet wind from the wilds, smiting me full in the face.

"I tamed three lions for my regiment at Constantine," I said.

"Good lad! Then you can play with Byram's lions, too. Oh, what the devil!" he cried, recklessly; "it's all in a lifetime. Quand meme, and who cares? We've life before us and an honest living in view, and Byram has packed two of his men back to England and I've tinkered up their pa.s.sports to suit us. So we're reasonably secure."

"Will you tell me, Speed, why you were wise enough to do all this while I was gone?" I asked, in astonishment.

"Because," said Speed, deliberately, "I distrusted Mornac from the hour he entered the department."

A splendid officer of police was spoiled when Mornac entered the department.

Presently the deck guard began to shout: "Saint-Cloud! Saint-Cloud!"

and the little boat glided up alongside the floating pier. Speed rose; I followed him across the gang-plank; and, side by side, we climbed the embankment.

"Do you mean to say that Byram is going travelling about with his circus in spite of the war?" I whispered.

"Yes, indeed. We start south from Chartres to-morrow."

Presently I said: "Do you suppose we will go to Lorient or--Paradise?"

"We will if I have anything to say about it," replied Speed, throwing away his ragged cigar.

And I walked silently beside him, thinking of the young Countess and of Buckhurst.

PART SECOND

IX

THE ROAD TO PARADISE

On the 3d of November Byram's American Circus, travelling slowly overland toward the Spanish frontier, drew up for an hour's rest at Quimperle. I, however, as usual, prepared to ride forward to select a proper place for our night encampment, and to procure the necessary license.

The dusty procession halted in the town square, which was crowded, and as I turned in my saddle I saw Byram stand up on the red-and-gold band-wagon and toss an armful of circulars and bills into the throng.

The white bits of paper fluttered wide and disappeared in the sea of white Breton head-dresses; there was a rhythmic clatter of wooden shoes, an undulation of snowy coiffes, then a low murmur as the people slowly read the circulars aloud, their musical monotone accompanying the strident nasal voice of Byram, who stood on the tarnished band-wagon shouting his crowd around him.

"Mossoors et madams! Ecooty see voo play! J'ai l'honnoor de vous presenter le ploo magnifique cirque--" And the invariable reclame continued to the stereotyped finis; the clown bobbed up behind Byram and made his usual grimaces, and the band played "The Cork Leg."