and signed by M.
Bajeau with trembling nicety. "Stay!" he exclaimed, as he laid down the
pen. "It will be right for me to certify to this in legal form. Early in
the morning, we can go to my good neighbor the notary and sign the
paper. In a day or so we shall know whether this Madame Rene is Ellen
Lee. If so, she will remember that hour spent in the shop of the
watch-mender Bajeau, ha! ha!"

Monsieur could afford to laugh, for, though he still repaired watches,
he had risen somewhat in worldly success and dignity since that day. An
American, under the same circumstances, would by this time have had a
showy bric-a-brac establishment, with a large sign over the door. But
Monsieur Bajeau was content with his old shop, well satisfied to know
the value of the treasures of jewelry and rare furniture which he bought
and sold.

The visit to the notary over, Donald took his leave, promising the old
man to come and bid him good-by before sailing for America, and, if
possible, to bring Ellen Lee with him to Monsieur Bajeau's shop.

Late in the afternoon of the same day, after a dusty seven hours' ride
in a railway coach, he found himself in Paris, on the way to the Rue
Soudiere, in search of Madame Rene.

It was something beside the effort of mounting five flights of stairs
that caused his heart to beat violently when, after inquiring at every
landing-place on his way up, he finally knocked at a small door on the
very top story.

A short, middle-aged woman, with pale blue eyes and scanty gray hair,
opened the door.

"Is this Madame Rene?" asked Donald, devoutly hoping that she would say
"No."

The woman nodded, at the same time regarding him with suspicion, and not
opening the door wide enough for him to enter.

"You replied to an advertisement, I believe?" began Donald again, bowing
politely; but noting the woman's blank reception of his English, he
repeated the inquiry in French. The door opened wide; the woman smiled a
smile that might have been agreeable but for the lonely effect of her
solitary front tooth, and then courteously invited her visitor to enter
and be seated.

Poor Donald, wishing that he were many miles away, and convinced that
nothing could come of an interview with this short, stout, pale-eyed
"Ellen Lee," took a chair and waited resignedly for Madame to speak.

"I have advertised," she said in French, "and am ready to begin work."

Donald looked at her inquiringly.

"Perhaps Madame, the young g