Mlle. Fouchette Part 70

"But, monsieur--no, we do not understand each other. I said it is not a question of money. If I wanted money I could get it at the Ministry,--yes, thousands of francs!"

"Perhaps you overrate your find, mademoiselle," he suggested, but with unconcealed interest.

"Impossible!" she exclaimed.

"It ought to be very important indeed," she continued, "equally important to you in its suppression, monsieur."

"Ah!"

The fishy eyes were very active.

"And who besides you possesses this secret?"

"Monsieur Marot."

"So! He alone?"

"Yes, monsieur."

"In a word, mademoiselle, then, what is it that you want?"

"Liberty!"

The inspector started back, confused.

"What's that?" he growled, warily.

"I said 'liberty.' I mean freedom from this service! I'm tired, monsieur! I would be free! I would live!"

The veteran looked at her first with incredulity, then astonishment, then pity. He began to think the girl was really crazy, and that her story was probably all a myth. He suddenly turned the lantern from under his cloak upon her upturned face, and he saw that which thrilled him, but which he could not understand.

It was the first time within Inspector Loup's experience that he had found any one wanting to quit--actually refusing good money to quit--the Secret System, having once enjoyed its delightful atmosphere.

"Monsieur l'Inspecteur?"

But he was so much involved in his mental struggle with this new phase of detective life that he did not answer. He had figured it out.

"So! I think I understand now. But why quit? You have struck something better; but, surely, mademoiselle, one can be in love and yet do one's duty to the State."

"Monsieur!"

"Oh, well; you can resign, can't you? n.o.body hinders you." And be a fool! was in Monsieur l'Inspecteur's tone.

"Yes; but that is not all, monsieur. I want it with your free consent and written quittance,--and more, your word of honor that I will never be molested by you or your agents,--that I will be as if I had never been!"

"And if I agree to all this----"

"I shall prove my good faith."

"When?"

"At once!"

"Good! Then we _do_ understand each other," he said, taking her hand for the first time in his life.

"I trust you, monsieur."

"You have my word. But you will permit me to give you a last word of fatherly advice before I cease to know you. Keep that gay young lover of yours out of mischief; he will never again get off as easily as he did the other day."

"Thanks, Monsieur l'Inspecteur!" said Mlle. Fouchette, very glad indeed now that the lantern was not turned on her.

"Allons!" he cried, looking about him. "And my men, mademoiselle?"

"I would put two at the door where you met us--out of sight--and leave two in the Rue St. Jacques where we shall enter,--until you see for yourself,--the coast is clear."

"Good!" said he, and he gave the necessary orders.

Inspector Loup issued from the Rue Soufflot entrance an hour later with a look of keen satisfaction.

Between the royalists on the one hand, and the republicans on the other, there were gigantic possibilities for an official of Inspector Loup's elasticity of conscience.

He had first of all enjoined strict silence on the part of Mlle.

Fouchette and Jean Marot.

"For the public safety," he said.

During his inspection of the premises he had found opportunity to secretly transfer an envelope to the hand of Mlle. Fouchette. For the chief of the Secret System was too clever not to see the shoe that pinched Mlle. Fouchette's toes, and, while despising her weakness, was loyal to his obligation.

As soon as Mlle. Fouchette had bidden Jean good-night and found herself in her own room, she took this envelope from her pocket and drew near the lamp.

It was marked "To be opened to-morrow."

She felt it nervously. It crackled. She squeezed it between her thumb and forefinger. She held it between her eyes and the light. In vain the effort to pierce its secrets.

The old tower clock behind the Pantheon mumbled two.

"Dame!" she said, "it is to-morrow!"

And she hastily ripped the missive open.

Something bluish white fluttered to the floor. She picked it up.

It was a new, crisp note of five hundred francs!

She trembled so that she sank into the nearest chair, crus.h.i.+ng the paper in her hand. Her little head was so dizzy--really--she could scarcely bring it to bear upon anything.

Except one thing,--that this unexpected wealth stood between her and what an honest young woman dreads most in this world!

The tears slowly trickled down the pale cheeks,--tears for which it is to be feared only the angels in heaven gave Mlle. Fouchette due credit.