ly, if you please," whined the old man,
"I was only thinking what is always the case: 'Look for the woman!'"

"The disappearance of the document," continued de Loubersac, "is
coincident with the death of Captain Brocq--so it is supposed."...

He stopped and stared at Vagualame, who was rubbing his hands,
simulating an extreme satisfaction, and mumbling with an air of
enjoyment:

"Women! Always the dear women!... Ah, these dear and damnable women!"

He resumed his serious expression: his manner was decided.

"Monsieur Henri," he declared, "I will find it; but the price is fifty
thousand francs."

"What!" De Loubersac was startled.

Vagualame raised his hand as if taking heaven to witness that his
statement was final.

"Not a sou more! Not a sou less! Fifty thousand is the price: fifty
thousand!"

Henri de Loubersac hesitated a second, then concluded the interview.

"Agreed to!... Be quick about it!... Adieu!"

VIII

A SINGER OF THE HALLS.

"Nichoune!... Nichoune!... Nichoune!"

"Be off with you, Leonce! To the door!"

It was a regular hubbub! An uproar! It increased!

Leonce the comedian had to cut short his monologue!

The little concert-hall at Chalons was at its liveliest. There was not
a single seat to be had. It was a mixed audience of soldiers and
civilians, and the uniform did not fraternise too well with the garb
of the working-man!

This low-class concert-hall was frequented by soldiers, who, out on
leave, would visit the taverns, the beer-houses, and finish the
evening on the squalid benches of this Eldorado of the provinces.

On this particular evening these critical gentlemen of the Army were
less satisfied than ever. There had been three "first appearances," of
poor quality, and they accused the management of having filled the
hall with civilians in order to secure a good reception for these
mediocre performers. Hussars and cuirassiers joined forces and made a
frightful uproar.

"Take the comic man away!"

"He shall not sing!"

Then the entire audience shouted one name, demanded one performer
only.

"Nichoune!... Nichoune!... Nichoune!"

Nichoune was indeed the star of the company!

She was rather pretty, her face was intelligent, and what was rare
enough in that hall, her tone was almost pure and true, and, above
all, she sang popular ditties so that the audience could join in the
chorus. As usual, after every singer, male or female, there were loud
demands for Nic