"I do not quite understand. You doubt my word, monsieur!" "Why not?" I asked sharply. [Illustration: A Spell for a Fairy _Painted for Princess Mary's Gift Book by Claude A. Shepperson, A.R.W.S._] It was quite possible that the cradle, this rug across his legs, the pillow, were all pretences. This young officer might very well have brought in a cipher message to the Château Villetaneuse. Mademoiselle Sophie might very well have waved her lantern at the door to summon a fresh messenger. "No; why should I not doubt your word?" I repeated. He turned his face to the old lady. "It is your move, Baronne," he said, and she placed the piece she held upon a square of the board. Mademoiselle Sophie took her stand by the table between the players, and the game went on just as though there were no intruder in the room. It was uncomfortable for me. I shifted my feet. I tried to appear at my ease; finally I sat down in a chair. They took no notice of me whatever. I was very glad when at last the corporal opened the door. He had searched the house--he had found no one but Madame de Villetaneuse and an old servant who was watching by her bed. "Very well," said I, and the corporal returned to the hall. Mademoiselle Sophie moved away from the chess-table. She came and stood opposite to me, and though her face was still, her eyes were hard with anger. "And now perhaps you will tell me to what I owe your visit?" she said. "Certainly," I returned. I fixed my eyes on her, and I said slowly, "I have come to ask for more news of M. Bonnet's black cat." Mademoiselle Sophie stared as if she was not sure whether I was mad or drunk, but was very sure I was one or the other. The young Frenchman started upon his couch, with the veins swelling upon his forehead and a flushed face. "This is an insult," he cried savagely, and no less savagely I answered him. "Hold your tongue!" I cried. "You forget too often that though you are on parole you are still a prisoner." He fell back upon the sofa with a groan of pain, and the girl hurried to his side. [Illustration] Meanwhile I had been looking about the room for a box or a case where the cipher messages might be hid. I saw nothing of the kind. Of course they might be hidden between the pages of a book. I went from table to table, taking them by the boards and shaking the leaves. Not a scrap of paper tumbled out. There was another door in the room besides that which led on to the landing. "Mademoiselle, what room is that?" I asked. "My bedroom," she answered simply, and with a gesture full of dignity she threw open the door. I carried the mud and snow and the grime of a camp without a scruple of remorse into that neat and pretty chamber. Mademoiselle Sophie followed me as I searched wardrobe and drawer and box. At last I came to one drawer in her dressing-table which was locked. I looked suddenly at the young lady. She was watching me out of the corners of her eyes with a peculiar intentness.