Underneath the table, and hidden from the girl's sight, Gonzague's hands clinched tightly, as if they were clinching upon the throat of an enemy; but his face was still quite tranquil as he said, carelessly: "Where are they?" Flora's voice was full of regret. "Ah! I do not know; but they were at the fair where we were playing, and I know that they are coming to Paris." Gonzague rose to his feet and took both the girl's hands affectionately in his. His eyes looked affectionately into hers, and his voice was full of kindness. "If your friend can be found, be sure that I will find her for you. And now go. I will send for you when the time comes for the meeting with your mother." Flora clasped her hands nervously. "My mother! Oh, what shall I say to her?" she cried. Gonzague's smile soothed her fears. "Hide nothing from her, for I am sure you have nothing to hide. Speak the loving words that a mother would like to hear." With a grateful look at her newly found protector, Flora darted from the room, and Gonzague was left alone. XX A CONFIDENTIAL AGENT Gonzague was left alone, indeed, only in a sense, for on a sudden the great hall with its famous pictures had become the theatre of fierce emotions and menacing presences. Just at the moment when Gonzague believed his schemes to be at their best and his fortunes to be nearing their top, he was suddenly threatened with the renewal of the old terror that had been kept at bay through all the years that had passed since the night of Caylus. Through all these years Lagardere had been kept from Paris, at the cost, indeed, as he believed, of many lives, but that was a price Louis de Gonzague was always prepared to pay when the protection of his own life was in question. Now it would seem as if Lagardere had broken his exile, had forced his way through the thicket of swords, and was again in Paris. Nor was this the worst. Just when Gonzague, after all his failures to trace the missing child of his victim, just when he had so ingeniously found a substitute for that missing child, it would really seem as if the child herself, now a woman, had come to Paris to defy him and to destroy his plans. He sat huddled with black thoughts for a time which seemed to him an age, but was in reality not more than a few moments; then, extending his hand, he struck a bell and a servant entered. "Tell Peyrolles I want him," the prince commanded, and was again alone with his dreads and his dangers until Peyrolles appeared. Gonzague turned to his factotum. "I have reason to suspect that Lagardere is in Paris. If it be true, he will come too late. The princess will have accepted the gypsy as her child, the mother's voice will have spoken. If Lagardere is in Paris, he and the girl must be found, and once found--" The ivory-like face of Peyrolles was quickened with a cunning look. "I have a man who will find him if any one can." Gonzague turned upon him sharply. "Who is it?"