's turn to laugh merrily.

When M. Cambray's pockets had been searched, and everything suspicious
confiscated, he was conducted to a room in the second story, in which he
was securely locked. He had plenty of time to look about his new
lodgings.

Apparently the room had been occupied by many an important personage.
The walls were covered with names. Above some of them impromptu verses
had been scribbled; others had perpetuated their profiles; and still
others had drawn caricatures of those who had been the means of lodging
them here. The guillotine also figured among the illustrations.

The new lodger was not specially surprised to find himself a prisoner;
what he could not understand was the connection between the two events.
How came it about that the courteous and sympathetic Marquis de
Fervlans's carriage had brought him here from the palace of the deeply
grateful countess?

He was puzzling his brain over this question when his door suddenly
opened, and a morose old jailer entered with some soup and bread for the
prisoner.

"Thanks, I have dined," said M. Cambray.

The jailer placed the food on the table, with the words: "I want you to
understand, citizen, that if you have any idea of starving yourself to
death, we shall pour the soup down your throat."

Toward evening another visitor appeared. The door was opened with loud
clanking of chains and bolts, and a tall man crossed the threshold. It
was the Marquis de Fervlans.

His manner now was not so condescending and sympathetic. He approached
the prisoner, and said in a commanding tone that was evidently intended
to be intimidating:

"You have been betrayed, and may as well confess everything; it is the
only thing that will save you."

A scornful smile crossed the prisoner's lips. "That is the usual form of
address to a criminal who has been arrested for burglary."

The marquis laughed.

"I see, M. Cambray, that you are not the sort of person to be easily
frightened. It is useless to adopt the usual prison methods with you.
Very well; then we will try a different one. It may be that we shall
part quite good friends! What do I say? Part? Say, rather, that we may
continue together, hand in hand! But to the point. You have a friend who
shared the same apartment with you. This gentleman deserted you last
night, I believe?"

"The ingrate!" ironically ejaculated M. Cambray.

"Beg pardon, but there was also a little girl secreted in your
apartment, whom