chewels will be welcome, my fat burglar friend."

"You shall know him. Goot night, motame. You are a tidbit for ein king;
but I am only a poor banker more dan sixty year olt, and you hafe made
me feel vat power the voman I lofe hafe ofer me since your difine beauty
hafe not make me forget her."

"Vell, dat is ver' pretty vat you say," replied the Englishwoman.

"It is not so pretty vat she is dat I say it to."

"You spoke of thirty thousand francs--to whom did you give them?"

"To dat hussy, your maid----"

The Englishwoman called Europe, who was not far off.

"Oh!" shrieked Europe, "a man in madame's room, and he is not
monsieur--how shocking!"

"Did he give you thirty thousand francs to let him in?"

"No, madame, for we are not worth it, the pair of us."

And Europe set to screaming "Thief" so determinedly, that the banker
made for the door in a fright, and Europe, tripping him up, rolled him
down the stairs.

"Old wretch!" cried she, "you would tell tales to my mistress! Thief!
thief! stop thief!"

The enamored Baron, in despair, succeeded in getting unhurt to his
carriage, which he had left on the boulevard; but he was now at his
wits' end as to whom to apply to.

"And pray, madame, did you think to get my earnings out of me?" said
Europe, coming back like a fury to the lady's room.

"I know nothing of French customs," said the Englishwoman.

"But one word from me to-morrow to monsieur, and you, madame, would find
yourself in the streets," retorted Europe insolently.

"Dat dam' maid!" said the Baron to Georges, who naturally asked his
master if all had gone well, "hafe do me out of dirty tousant franc--but
it vas my own fault, my own great fault----"

"And so monsieur's dress was all wasted. The deuce is in it, I should
advise you, Monsieur le Baron, not to have taken your tonic for
nothing----"

"Georches, I shall be dying of despair. I hafe cold--I hafe ice on mein
heart--no more of Esther, my good friend."

Georges was always the Baron's friend when matters were serious.

Two days after this scene, which Europe related far more amusingly than
it can be written, because she told it with much mimicry, Carlos and
Lucien were breakfasting tete-a-tete.

"My dear boy, neither the police nor anybody else must be allowed to
poke a nose into our concerns," said Herrera in a low voice, as he
lighted his cigar from Lucien's. "It would not agree with us. I have hit
on a plan, daring but effectu