blackmailing, and vows that
to give them money again is to encourage them in their nefarious
practices. Oh! he has been cruel to me, cruel!--for the first time in
my life, Monsieur, my husband has made me unhappy, and if I lose my
darling now I shall indeed be broken-hearted."

I was silent for a moment or two. I was beginning to wonder what part
I should be expected to play in the tragedy which was being unfolded
before me by this lovely and impecunious creature.

"Madame la Comtesse," I suggested tentatively, after a while, "your
jewellery . . . you must have a vast number which you seldom wear
. . . five thousand francs is soon made up. . . ."

You see, Sir, my hopes of a really good remunerative business had by
now dwindled down to vanishing point. All that was left of them was a
vague idea that the beautiful Comtesse would perhaps employ me as an
intermediary for the sale of some of her jewellery, in which case . . .
But already her next words disillusioned me even on that point.

"No, Monsieur," she said; "what would be the use? Through one of the
usual perverse tricks of fate, M. le Comte would be sure to inquire
after the very piece of jewellery of which I had so disposed, and
moreover . . ."

"Moreover--yes, Mme. la Comtesse?"

"Moreover, my husband is right," she concluded decisively. "If I give
in to those thieves to-day and pay them five thousand francs, they
would only set to work to steal Carissimo again and demand ten
thousand francs from me another time."

I was silent. What could I say? Her argument was indeed unanswerable.

"No, my good M. Ratichon," she said very determinedly after a while.
"I have quite decided that you must confound those thieves. They have
given me three days' grace, as you see in their abominable letter. If
after three days the money is not forthcoming, and if in the meanwhile
I dare to set a trap for them or in any way communicate with the
police, my darling Carissimo will be killed and my heart be broken."

"Madame la Comtesse," I entreated, for of a truth I could not bear to
see her cry again.

"You must bring Carissimo back to me, M. Ratichon," she continued
peremptorily, "before those awful three days have elapsed."

"I swear that I will," I rejoined solemnly; but I must admit that I
did it entirely on the spur of the moment, for of a truth I saw no
prospect whatever of being able to accomplish what she desired.

"Without my paying a single louis to those execr