But suddenly she sprung up like a wild creature, tore open the door that Carmontelle had slammed together, and rushed after him. He was just entering his carriage when her frantic hand arrested him and drew him forcibly back. "Come into the house; I must speak with you further. Do not shake your head," wildly. "It is a matter of life and death!" He suffered her to drag him back into the salon. She turned her shining eyes upon his face with a half-maniacal gleam in them. "The girl--had she awakened when you saw her last?" hoarsely. "No," he replied. She smote her forehead fiercely with one ringed white hand. "My soul! I do not want to have murder on my hands. You must find Remond. I gave him the little vial with the antidote." "The antidote?" he stammered, almost stupidly. "Yes, the antidote. She is under the influence of a strange drug. I bought the two vials long ago from an old hag in the East as a curiosity, you see. One drug was to bring sleep, the other to wake at will. Without--" she paused, and her voice broke. "Without--" he echoed, hoarsely; and in a frightened, guilty voice, she muttered: "The one, without the other means--death!" "Fiend!" he hissed, fiercely. "No, no; do not blame me. I meant no ill. I gave Remond the antidote, to be used when they reached the end of their journey. How could I know you would take the girl from him and hide her? How could I know he would disappear? Find Remond quickly, or her death will lie at your door." "You speak the truth?" he cried, wildly. "Before God and the angels, monsieur!" With a smothered oath he thrust her from him and rushed out again, leaped into the carriage, and gave his orders: "Like the wind, to the detective agency." It was two miles distant, and the panting horses were covered with foam when they set him down at his destination. Fortunately the familiar face of the most skillful detective in New Orleans looked at him in surprise from the pavement. He beckoned him into the vehicle. In words as brief and comprehensive as possible he explained what he wanted done. He must find Remond at once--find him and bring him to the Convent of Le Bon Berger. "A life hangs on his hands," he said, feverishly. "Tell him not to fail to bring with him the antidote he received last night." "I will find him if he is in the city," the detective promised, ardently; and full of zeal, inspired not only by love for his profession, but genuine anxiety and grief over the startling case just confided to him, he sprung from the carriage to set about his task. And Carmontelle, with his mind full of Little Nobody, gave the order again: "To the convent!" He was possessed by the most torturing anxiety over his little charge, and doubt over madame's startling assertion.