"Just fancy, Vagualame, I took the precaution to hide it between my
two mattresses! Wait!... Here it is!"

Nichoune held out his letter.

"Thank you, my dear!"

Vagualame looked as if the returning of the document was a matter of the
most perfect indifference to him. He gazed hard at Nichoune--stared so
fixedly at her that she demanded:

"Whatever possesses you to stare at me like that?"

"I am thinking how pretty you are!"

"Well, I never! You are becoming quite complimentary!"

"It's no flattery. I think you are very pretty, Nichoune, but your
hands! They are not pretty!"

The singer laughed and held out her little hands.

"What is there about them you have to find fault with?"

"They are red.... It astonishes me that a woman like you does not know
how to make them white!... Don't you know what to do to them?"

"No! What must I do?"

"Why," retorted the old musician, "the very first thing you have to do
is as simple as A B C! All you have to do is to tie up your hands
every night with a ribbon, and so keep them raised above your
head!"...

"How? I don't understand!"

"It's like this! You stick a nail into the wall ... and then you
manage things so that you keep your hands up-raised the whole night
through.... You will see then ... your hands will be as white as
lilies in the morning.... White as lilies!"

Nichoune was extremely interested.

"Is that true? I shall try it this very night! White, like lilies, you
say?... And you have to sleep with your hands stuck up in the air!...
I shall try it--shall begin to-night."

A few minutes later Vagualame left Nichoune, after promising that he
would not give her any more spy work to do, and declaring that she
should never again be mixed up in any dangerous business. As he went
along the streets of Chalons, the dreadful old man chuckled and
sniggered.

"Hands in the air, my beauty!... Just try that, this very night! With
that little heart mischief of yours! Ha! ha! We shall not be kept
waiting for the consequences of that performance! It will serve as an
example to all and sundry when they wish to write to the magistrate!"

Vagualame's face took on a wicked look.

"I shall have to be as careful as can be when I hide myself in that
little fool's room to-night! At all costs I must get hold of that
compromising letter before anyone in the hotel hears of the death! Not
a soul must catch a glimpse of me--that's certain!"

Those who passed Vagualame si