The young countess was standing at the window as we approached in solemn single file along the path, and when she caught sight of us she opened the door and stepped out on the tiny porch.

"Why, this is our little Jacqueline," she said, quickly. "They have taken your father for the conscription, have they not, my child? And now you are homeless!"

"I think so, madame."

"Then you will stay with me until he returns, won't you, little one?"

There was a moment's pause; Jacqueline made a grave gesture. "This is my cat, madame--Ange Pitou."

The countess stared at the cat, then broke out into the prettiest peal of laughter. "Of course you must bring your cat! My invitation is also for Ange Pitou, you understand."

"Then we thank you, and permit ourselves to accept, madame," said Jacqueline. "We are very glad because we are quite hungry, and we have thorns from the gorse in our feet--" She broke off with a joyous little cry: "There is Speed!" And Speed, entering the garden hurriedly, stopped short in his tracks.

The child ran to him and threw both arms around his neck. "Oh, Speed!

Speed!" she stammered, over and over again. "I was too lonely; I will do what you wish; I will be instructed in the graces of education--truly I will. I am glad to come back--and I am so tired, Speed. I will never go away from you again.... Oh, Speed, I am contented!... Do you love me?"

"Dearly, little sweetheart," he said, huskily, trying to steady his voice. "There! Madame the countess is waiting. All will be well now."

He turned, smiling, toward the young countess, and lifted his hat, then stepped back and fixed me with a blank look of dismay, which said perfectly plainly that he had unpleasant news to communicate. The countess, I think, saw that look, too, for she gave me an almost imperceptible nod and took Jacqueline's hand in hers.

"If there are thorns in your feet we must find them," she said, sweetly. "Will you come, Jacqueline?"

"Yes, madame," said the child, with an adoring smile at Speed, who bent and kissed her upturned face as she pa.s.sed.

They went into the house, the countess holding Jacqueline's thorn-scratched hand, the cat following, perfectly self-possessed, to the porch, where she halted and sat down, surveying the landscape with dignified indifference.

"Well," said I, turning to Speed, "what new deviltry is going on in Paradise now?"

"Preparations for train-wrecking, I should say," he replied, bluntly.

"They are tinkering with the trestle. Buckhurst's ragam.u.f.fins have just seized the railroad station at Rose-Sainte-Anne, where the main line crosses, you know, near the ravine at Lammerin. I was sure there was something extraordinary going to happen, so I went down to the river, hailed Jeanne Rolland, the pa.s.seuse, and had her ferry me over to Bois-Gilbert. Then I made for the telegraph, gave the operator ten francs to let me work the keys, and called up the a.r.s.enal at Lorient.

But it was no use, Scarlett, the governor of Lorient can't spare a soldier--not a single gendarme. It seems that Uhlans have been signalled north of Quimper, and Lorient is frantic, and the garrison is preparing to stand siege."

"You mean," I said, indignantly, "that they're not going to try to catch Buckhurst and Mornac?"

"That's what I mean; they're scared as rabbits over these rumors of Uhlans in the west and north."

"Well," said I, disgusted, "it appears to me that Buckhurst is going to get off scot-free this time--and Mornac, too! Did you know that Mornac was here?"

"Know it? I saw him an hour ago, marshalling a new company of malcontents in the square--a bad lot, Scarlett--deserters from Chanzy's army, from Bourbaki, from Garibaldi--a hundred or more line soldiers, dragoons without horses, francs-tireurs, Garibaldians, even a Turco, from Heaven knows where--bad soldiers who disgrace France--marauders, cowardly, skulking mobiles--a sweet lot, Scarlett, to be let loose in Madame de Va.s.sart's vicinity."

"I think so, too," I said, seriously.

"And I earnestly agree with you," muttered Speed. "That's all _I_ have to report, except that your friend, Robert the Lizard, is out yonder flat on his belly under a gorse-bush, and he wants to see you."

"The Lizard!" I exclaimed. "Come on, Speed. Where is he?"

"Yonder, clothed in somebody's line uniform. He's one of them.

Scarlett, do you trust him? He has a rifle."

"Yes, yes," I said, impatiently. "Come on, man! It's all right; the fellow is watching Buckhurst for me." And I gave Speed a nervous push toward the moors. We started, Speed ostentatiously placing his revolver in his side-pocket so that he could shoot through his coat if necessary. I walked beside him, closely scanning the stretch of open moor for a sign of life, knowing all the while that it is easier to catch moon-beams in a net than to find a poacher in the bracken. But Speed had marked him down as he might mark a squatting quail, and suddenly we flushed him, rifle clapped to his shoulder.

"None of that, my friend," growled Speed; but the poacher at sight of me had already lowered the weapon.

I greeted him frankly, offering my hand; he took it, then his hard fist fell away and he touched his cap.

"I have done what you wanted," he said, sullenly. "I have the company's rolls--here they are." He dragged from his baggy trousers pockets a ma.s.s of filthy papers, closely covered with smeared writing.

"Here is the money, too," he said, fishing in the other pocket; and, to my astonishment, he produced a flattened, soiled ma.s.s of bank-notes. "Count it," he added, calmly.

"What money is that?" I asked, taking it reluctantly.

"Didn't you warn me to get that box--the steel box that Tric-Trac sat down on when he saw me?"

"Is that money from the box?" I exclaimed.

"Yes, m'sieu. I could not bring the box, and there had been enough blood shed over it already. Besides, when Buckhurst broke it open there was only a bit of iron for the sc.r.a.p-heap left."

I touched Speed's arm to call his attention; the poacher shrugged his shoulders and continued: "Tric-Trac made no ceremony with me; he told me that he and Buckhurst had settled this Dr. Delmont, and the other--the professor--Tavernier."

"Murdered them?" muttered Speed.

"Dame!--the coup du Pere Francois is murder, I suppose."

Speed turned to me. "That's the argot for strangling," he said, grimly.

"Go on," I motioned to the poacher. "How did you get the money?"

"Oh, pour ca--in my turn I turned sonneur," he replied, with a savage smile.

A _sonneur_, in thieves' slang, is a creature of the footpad type who, tripping his victim flat, seizes him by the shoulders and beats his head against the pavement until he renders him unconscious--if he doesn't kill him.

"It was pay-day," continued the Lizard. "Buckhurst opened the box and I heard him--he hammered it open with a cold chisel. I was standing guard on the forest's edge; I crept back, hearing the hammering and the little bell ringing the Angelus of Tric-Trac. It was close to dusk; by the time he got into the box it was dark in the woods, and it was easy to jump on his back and strike--not very hard, m'sieu--but, I tell you, Buckhurst lay for two days with eyes like a sick owl's! He knew one of his own men had done it. He never said a word, but I know he thinks it was Tric-Trac.... And when he is ready--bon soir, Tric-Trac!"

He drew his right hand across his corded throat with a horridly suggestive motion. Speed watched him narrowly.

I asked the poacher why Buckhurst had come to Paradise, and why his banditti had seized the railroad at Rose-Sainte-Anne.

"Ah," cried the Lizard, with a ferocious leer, "that is the kernel under the limpet's tent! And I have uncovered it--I, Robert Garenne, bon sang de Jesu!"

He stretched out his powerful arm toward the sea. "Where is that cruiser, m'sieu? Gone? Yes, but who sent her off? Buckhurst, with his new signal-book! Where? In chase of a sea-swallow, or a frigate (bird). Who knows? Listen, messieurs! We are to wreck the train for Brest to-night. Do you comprehend?"

"Where?" I asked, quietly.

"Just where the trestle at Lammerin crosses the ravine below the house of Josephine Tanguy."

Speed looked around at me. "It's the treasure-train from Lorient.

They're probably sending the crown diamonds back to Brest in view of the Uhlans being seen near Quimper."

"On a false order?"

"I believe so. I believe that Buckhurst sent the cruiser to Brest, and now he's started the treasure-trains back to Brest in a panic."