But the momentary glimmer of reason had in a measure vanished, and when he spoke of Cinette she did not seem to be aware of who the girl was.

"You must listen to me, mother," said Fanfar, rapidly. "Jacques was not alone in that inn. There was another child; she was small, she had light curls."

His voice was so sympathetic and persuasive that Francoise saw it all, saw the little rosy face once more.

What was to be done? Time was pa.s.sing, and now Fanfar knew that she who was in the power of a scoundrel, was his little sister Francine. He sees a miniature hanging on the wall, he takes it down.

"Yes, it is she--it is Cinette!" he cries.

The sick woman s.n.a.t.c.hes it from his hand. She looks at it.

"Yes, it is my child."

"And you never knew it before?"

"No, she called me mamma, but I never called her daughter."

"And, mother, your daughter is in danger."

"Ah! I knew it, she did not kiss me to-night. Where is she?"

"In the power of a scoundrel, of the Vicomte de Talizac."

"Talizac!" The sick woman was troubled by the name, but she could not grasp the memories it had aroused.

The door opened hastily, and Gudel appeared.

"Gudel! Have you found Robeccal or La Roulante?"

"They have vanished. They have been living in la Rue des Venaigrurs, but last night they announced that they were about to move."

"And this is all you have discovered?"

"All."

"Then Gudel, I must tell you that this unfortunate creature I have in my arms is my mother, and Francine is my sister."

Gudel looked utterly aghast. Before he could speak, Bobichel appeared.

"I beg your pardon, sir," he said to Fanfar, "but knowing that the sick lady was alone, I went for some one."

Caillette stepped forward.

The girl said in a low voice to Fanfar:

"Will you allow me to take care of your mother?"

She then turned to Francoise, and kissed her as Cinette would have done.

"Good, kind souls!" murmured Fanfar, "with the a.s.sistance of such people we ought to succeed."

He kissed his mother again, then turning to Gudel and Bobichel, he cried:

"Come with me! And may Eternal Justice be with us also!"

CHAPTER XXIX.

A CONSPIRACY.

When Francine found herself in the power of these scoundrels she fainted away, and these men carried her over their shoulders as if she had been a bag of flour, perfectly indifferent to her beauty.

Robeccal suddenly bade them halt. They had reached the vile place known as the Cour de Bretagne, a part of Paris known for its poverty and vice.

"I think it is about time!" grumbled one of Robeccal's men in reply.

"Oh! I suppose you thought you were to be paid for nothing, did you?"

Without heeding the growling of these fellows, Robeccal stepped up to a door and knocked. It was opened by a person who stood back in the shadow, and a hurried conversation took place. Satisfied apparently with what he heard, Robeccal bade his men follow him. They went to Belleville, which at that time was an excessively pretty place, as almost all the houses of any pretension had gardens and grounds.

Robeccal had been extremely adroit in diverting suspicion and the observation of the people they encountered. He now knocked at a door in a wall half hidden by overhanging ivy.

"Who is there?" called a woman's voice.

"Robec and the kid," was the reply.

The door opened noiselessly on well-oiled hinges.

"Come in, all of you." It was Roulante who spoke.

Francine was at once carried to a little cottage at the foot of a long garden, where, still unconscious, she was laid on a couch.

Then Robeccal paid his a.s.sistants the sum agreed upon. They were not altogether satisfied, but he managed to get rid of them.

La Roulante was unchanged since the day when she and her lover discussed the a.s.sa.s.sination of Iron Jaws.

"I have done well, have I not?" asked Robeccal, with a friendly tap on the ma.s.sive shoulders of this monstrosity.

"Her beauty is not marred, I hope?" she asked, anxiously.

"I am not such a fool as that! But I am afraid that the handkerchief was too tight. She is confoundedly pretty, that is a fact!"

"What is that to you?" asked the giantess, angrily. "Now give me that bottle."

"What are you going to do?"