the
beaten track--at dead of night--a den of cutthroats and conspirators. I
tracked the thief to his lair and forced him to give the money up to
me."

"You forced him? . . . Oh! how splendid!" cried Crystal. "But then
. . ."

"Ah, then! there was the hideousness of the plot. The thief, feeling
himself unmasked, gave up his stolen booty; I forced him to his knees,
and five wallets containing twenty-five million francs were safely in my
pockets at last."

"You forced him--how splendid!" reiterated Crystal, whose glowing eyes
were fixed upon Maurice with all the admiration which she felt.

"Yes! that money was in my pocket for the rest of the happy night, but
the abominable thief knew well that his friend Victor de Marmont was on
the road with five and twenty armed deserters in the pay of the Corsican
brigand. Hardly had I left the hostelry and found my way back to the
main road when I was surrounded, assailed, searched and robbed. I
repeat!" continued St. Genis, warming to his own narrative, "what could
I do alone against so many?--the thief and his hirelings I managed
successfully, but with the money once in my possession I could not risk
staying an hour longer than I could help in that den of cutthroats. But
they were in league with de Marmont, and, though I would have guarded
the King's money with my life, it was filched from me ere I could draw a
single weapon in its defence."

He had sunk in a chair, half exhausted with the effort of his own
eloquence, and now, with elbows resting on his knees and head buried in
his hands, he looked the picture of heroic misery.

Crystal said nothing for a while; there was a deep frown of puzzlement
between her eyes.

"Maurice," she said resolutely at last, "you said just now that the
thief was in collusion with his friend de Marmont. What did you mean by
that?"

"I would rather that you guessed what I meant, Crystal," replied Maurice
without looking up at her.

"You mean . . . that . . ." she began slowly.

"That it was Mr. Clyffurde, our English friend," broke in Madame tartly,
"who robbed us on the broad highway. I suspected it all along."

"You suspected it, _ma tante_, and said nothing?" asked the girl, who
obviously had not taken in the full significance of Maurice's statement.

"I said absolutely nothing," replied Madame decisively, "firstly,
because I did not think that I would be doing any good by putting my own
surmises into my brother's head, and, secondly