“I am Mademoiselle Lichtenbach, monsieur, and I place myself entirely at your disposal.” As she spoke she removed her veil. Uncle Graff, stupefied, recognized the daughter of his enemy. She was pale and trembling, but resolute. “Who has sent you?” he asked. “My father! He thought that if he came himself, perhaps you would not receive him. At this very moment, perhaps, your nephew is running the most serious danger. My father, who has just received news of it, begged me to come and tell you.” “But how did he receive his information?” asked Graff, suspiciously. “Ah, monsieur! begin by taking the necessary measures to help M. Marcel,” said Marianne, eagerly. “Afterwards you may ask what questions you please.” “At whose hands lies the peril?” “At the hands of the same band which killed General de Trémont. My father has been informed of these intrigues. Act without losing a moment.” “But what can we do?” exclaimed Uncle Graff, carried away by the young lady’s eagerness. “I will explain to you. Wait a moment.” Passing her hand over her forehead, she said in piteous accents— “Yes, that was it. A woman he knew at Ars.” “The Italian?” “Yes, doubtless. He loved her, and they knew he would be pleased to see her again.” She paused. The pallor of her face increased. What she was relating seemed to torture her. “So they wrote to him to fix a rendezvous. And they are expecting him this very evening, in a solitary out-of-the-way house. But he will not find the one he expects to meet, but, instead, a band of villains, determined to employ the most violent measures to force him to reveal a secret that they cannot fathom. Now do you understand?” “Yes. ‘Where is this house?” “See, here is the address written on this piece of paper.” Graff read— “Boulevard Maillot, 16 bis. And you say that he was expected there about ten o’clock?” As though in obedience to his words, the timepiece struck the hour at the very instant. Graff rang the bell. Baudoin appeared. “Quick, Baudoin, a carriage! You will accompany me. Have you a good revolver?” “Yes, sir.” “Then bring it with you. Do not say a word to any one. I will rejoin you in the yard. Ten o’clock! We will be there, all the same, and if they have harmed the child, let them beware!” Baudoin had already left the room. Marianne, motionless, watched Uncle Graff make his preparations. He took up a bundle of bank-notes, a revolver, and a heavy steel-headed stick. Then he appeared to remember that Mademoiselle Lichtenbach was in the room. Coming up to her, he said kindly— “My child, I thank you for the service.” “Oh, monsieur!” exclaimed Marianne, her eyes gleaming with suppressed tears; “save him, that is the main thing!” “He shall be informed, mademoiselle, of what you have risked for his sake. I know what this errand must have cost you.” Marianne smiled sadly. “I am returning to-morrow to the convent, doubtless for ever. Life is full of sadness and pain.”