“I will get Mike off in half an hour, and Sarah will at least make an effort. Yes, Marie Moulin, or Mary Mill, as the girls call her, is just the thing!” “Marie Moulin! Is that the name of the woman? She who was in the service of the Barringers, at Paris? Do you mean _that_ person—five-and-thirty, slightly pock-marked, with light blue eyes, and yellowish hair—more like a German, than her French name would give reason to expect?” “The very same; and you knew her, _too_! Why not bring all your friends around you at once, Miss Monson, and not remain here an hour longer than is necessary.” Mary was too intent on the subject of engaging the woman in question, to answer this last appeal. Earnestly did she resume her instructions, therefore, and with an eagerness of manner young Wilmeter had never before observed in her. “If Marie Moulin be the person meant,” she said, “I will spare no pains to obtain her services. Her attentions to poor Mrs. Barringer, in her last illness, were admirable; and we all loved her, I may say. Beg your sister to tell her, Mr. Wilmeter, that an old acquaintance, in distress, implores her assistance. That will bring Marie, sooner than money, Swiss though she be.” “If you would write her a line, enclosing your real name, for we are persuaded it is not Monson, it might have more effect than all our solicitations, in behalf of one that is unknown.” The prisoner turned slowly from the grate, and walked up and down her gallery for a minute or two, as if pondering on this proposal. Once she smiled, and it almost gave a lustre to her remarkable countenance; then a cloud passed over her face, and once more she appeared sad. “No,” she said, stopping near the grate again, in one of her turns. “I will not do it—it will be risking too much. I can do nothing, just now, that will tell more of me than your sister can state.” “Should Marie Moulin know you, she must recognise you when you meet.” “It will be wiser to proceed a little in the dark. I confide all to your powers of negotiation, and shall remain as tranquil as possible, until to-morrow morning. There is still another little affair that I must trouble you with, Mr. Wilmeter. My gold is sequestered, as you know, and I am reduced to an insufficient amount of twos and threes. Might I ask the favour of you to obtain smaller notes for this, without mentioning in whose behalf it is done?”