She knows the Californian is a feature of that parade, with his team. Paris rings with Colonel Joe's exploits. "No poor stock for me," is Colonel Joe's motto. With a cunning glance in his eyes, the miner asks: "Were you ever in California, madame?" Her lips tremble as she says, "Years ago I was in San Francisco." Colonel Joe is thoughtful. His glance follows madame, who is ringing a silver bell. The butler bows. "I shall not drive this afternoon," she says. With graceful hospitality, she charms PŠre Fran‡ois. Chat about the Church and France follows. The gentlemen are about to take their leave. Madame de Santos, observing that PŠre Fran‡ois speaks Spanish as well as French, invites him to call again. She would be glad to consult him in spiritual matters. Colonel Joe speaks of California, and asks if he may be of any service. "I have no interests there," the lady replies with constraint. Passing into the hall, PŠre Fran‡ois stands amazed as if he sees a ghost. "What's the matter, padre?" queries Colonel Joe as they enter their carriage. "Did you see that maid who passed us as we left the salon?" remarks the padre. "Yes, and a good-looking woman too," says the Californian. "That woman is the guardian of Louise Moreau," the padre hastily replies. "Look here! What are you telling me?" cries the Colonel. "There's some deviltry up! I'm sorry I must leave. But how do you know?" he continues. The priest tells him about artful Josephine, whose womanly curiosity has been piqued. He has seen this person on her visits. Useless to trace her. Entering an arcade or some great shop, she has baffled pursuit. Through the Bois, the friends commune over this mystery. "I'll fix you out," says Woods, with a shout. "I've got a fellow here who watched some people for me on a mining deal. I'll rip that household skeleton all to pieces. We'll dissect it!" He cries: "Now, padre, I'm a-going to back you through this affair," as they sit in his rooms over a good dinner. Colonel Joe has sent all his people away. He wants no listeners. As he pours the Cliquot, he says, "You give me a week and I'll post you. Listen to me. You can see there is an object in hiding that child. Keep her safely guarded. Show no suspicion. You make friends with the lady. Leave the maid dead alone. Take it easy, padre; we'll get them. I'll tell my bankers to back you up. I'll take you down; I'll make you solid. "All I fear is they will get frightened and take her off. You people have got to watch her. They'll run her off, if they suspect. Poor little kid. "It's strange," says the miner; "they could have put this poor little one out of the way easy. But they don't want that. Want her alive, but kept on the quiet. I suppose there's somebody else," he mutters.