“Are you hungry, little one?” called Gethryn, pleasantly. The child raised his head, with a wolfish stare, then sank it again and murmured: “I have seen him and touched him.” Gethryn turned to the soldier. “What does he mean by that?” he demanded. The sentry shrugged his shoulders. “He means he saw a hunchback. They say when one sees a hunchback and touches him, it brings good luck, if the hunchback is neither too old nor too young. Dame! I don’t say there’s nothing in it, but it can’t save Henri Rigaud.” “And who is Henri Rigaud?” “What! Monsieur has not heard of the affair Rigaud? Rigaud who did the double murder!” “Oh, yes! In the Faubourg du Temple.” The sentry nodded. “He dies this week.” “And the child?” “Is his.” Gethryn looked at the dirty little bundle of tatters. “No one knows the exact day set for the affair, but,” the sentry sank his voice to a whisper, “between you and me, I saw the widow going into the yard just before dinner, and Monsieur de Paris is here. That means tomorrow morning—click!” “The—the widow?” repeated Gethryn. “The guillotine. It will be over before this time tomorrow and the gamin there, who thinks the bossu will give him back his father—he’ll find out his mistake, all in good time—all in good time!” and shouldering his rifle, the sentry laughed and resumed his slouching walk before the gateway. Gethryn nodded to the soldier’s salute and went up to the child, who stood leaning sullenly against the wall. “Do you know what a franc is?” he asked. The gamin eyed him doggedly. “But I saw him,” he said. “Saw what?” said Gethryn, gently. “The bossu,” repeated the wretched infant vacantly. “See here,” said Gethryn, “listen to me. What would you do with twenty francs?” “Eat, all day long, forever!” Rex slipped two twenty-franc pieces into the filthy little fist. “Eat,” he murmured, and turned away. CHAPTER VII. Next morning, when Clifford arrived at the Atelier of MM. Boulanger and Lefebvre, he found the students more excited than usual over the advent of a “Nouveau.”