n letter of warning, and read it."

"And who may this witness be?" queried Cambray.

"The child you picked up in the street."

"What!" ejaculated Cambray, incredulously. "The little girl who sat
shivering in the snow?"

"Yes; she is our most skilful detective, and has entrapped more than one
conspirator," triumphantly interrupted De Fervlans.

"Then"--and M. Cambray brought his hands together in a vehement
gesture--"what I have believed a myth is really true. The police
authorities really employ a number of beautiful women, handsome young
men, and clever children to spy out and entrap suspected persons?
'Cythera's Brigade' really exists?"

"You had the pleasure of meeting that celebrated brigade this morning,"
replied De Fervlans.

"And those grateful men and women, who gathered about me with tearful
eyes and sympathetic words--"

"Were members of Cythera's Brigade," supplemented the marquis.

"And the mistress of the house--the beautiful woman who fainted at sight
of her child?"

"Is the fair Cythera's substitute! She taught her little daughter the
part she played so successfully."

With sudden fury M. Cambray tore from his breast the ivory locket
containing the little Amelie's portrait, and was about to fling it on
the floor and trample upon it. On second thought, he restrained himself,
returned the locket to his breast, and muttered:

"The child is not to blame. Those who have made her such a monster are
at fault. I will keep the miniature as a talisman for the future."

"And now, M. Cambray," pursued the marquis, "we want to learn what has
become of your young friend. In fact, we _must_ know what has become of
him and his charge."

"I don't know where he is."

"You do know. According to the report from our witness, he has fled to a
'country where order prevails, and where there are no police.' Where is
this country, M. Cambray?"

"In the moon, perhaps!" was the laconic response.

"Our witness heard these words from your own lips, and you pointed out
the spot on the map to your friend."

"Your witness dreamed all this!"

"M. Cambray, let us talk sensibly. You are a banker--at least, that is
what you are registered in the police records. It is to the interest of
the state to discover your secret. If you will reveal the hiding-place
of your friend you may demand your own reward. Do you wish to be
intrusted with the management of the state's finances? Or--"

"I regret, monsieur le marquis," int