e, Sire," replied de Marmont with a regretful sigh,
"but I fear me that it is too late."

"Too late?" snapped out the Emperor with a frown, "what do you mean by
too late?"

"I mean that Fourier has left Grenoble in the trail of Marchand, and
that two days ago--unless I'm very much mistaken--he disposed of the
money."

"Disposed of the money? You are mad, de Marmont."

"Not altogether, Sire. When I say that Fourier disposed of the Empress'
money I only mean that he deposited it in what he would deem a safe
place."

"The cur!" exclaimed Napoleon with a yet tighter clenching of his hand
and mighty fist, "turning against the hand that fed him and made him
what he is. Well!" he added impatiently, "where is the money now?"

"In the keeping of M. le Comte de Cambray at Brestalou," replied de
Marmont without hesitation.

"Very well," said the Emperor, "take a company of the 7th regiment with
you to Brestalou and requisition the money at once."

"If--as I believe--the Comte no longer has the money by him?----"

"Make him tell you where it is."

"I mean, Sire, that it is my belief that M. le Comte's sister and
daughter will undertake to take the money to Paris, hoping by their sex
and general air of innocence to escape suspicion in connection with the
money."

"Don't worry me with all these details, de Marmont," broke in Napoleon
with a frown of impatience. "I told you to take a company with you and
to get me the Empress' money. See to it that this is done and leave me
in peace."

He hated arguing, hated opposition, the very suggestion of any
difficulty. His followers and intimates knew that; already de Marmont
had repented that he had allowed his tongue to ramble on quite so much.
Now he felt that silence must redeem his blunder--silence now and
success in his undertaking.

He bent the knee, for this homage the great Corsican adventurer and
one-time dictator of civilised Europe loved to receive: he kissed the
hand which had once wielded the sceptre of a mighty Empire and was ready
now to grasp it again. Then he rose and gave the military salute.

"It shall be done, Sire," was all that he said.

His heart was full of enthusiasm, and the task allotted to him was a
congenial one: the baffling and discomfiture of those who had insulted
him. If--as he believed--Crystal would be accompanying her aunt on the
journey toward Paris, then indeed would his own longing for some sort of
revenge for the humiliation which he