(Continued from page 271.)

Interested in the miserable children, Estelle had moved a little away from the rest of the party. She wanted to speak to the brave little boy, and to give him some bonbons for himself and his sister. The little bag was in her hand, when she saw a dingy curtain on her left pushed aside. A face looked out at her. In a moment her dream came back: there were the curtains, wrinkled and dingy. Between them peered the face of the man after whom the mastiffs had rushed—the face of Thomas! He grinned in recognition of her; he nodded, and, thrusting open the curtains, came out into full view. Estelle's eyes opened wide with terror. There was something in the man's expression which appalled her. Greed; an eagerness he could not conceal; a cunning smile which was made more terrible by a stealthy movement towards her. For a moment Estelle was paralysed. Jack's back was turned; his attention taken up by the scene he had witnessed. Julien Matou stood with his hands in his pockets, watching it too. Mrs. Wright had gone on; she wished Jack had not brought them this way, but, since he had, there was nothing for it but to hurry out of it as quickly as possible. For the time Estelle was alone. Thomas was nearer to her than any of her friends, and she was incapable of even crying out for help.

'You here, my little lady?' whispered Thomas, stretching out his hand. 'Come along with me. I will save you.'

Though she shrank back, she yet managed to summon up courage enough to push his hand away.

Thomas had no time to lose. Estelle must be seized, and he had hopes that those behind him would back him up. Fargis would not dare to refuse, he argued. Had he not come to this outlandish place on purpose to get employment from him? The skipper had proved to be very unwilling, and they had come to no terms. Now, however, there were golden reasons for gaining his consent to anything. Once in possession of Estelle, he could make his own bargain with Lord Lynwood. How high his hopes had been when he and the Dutchman had carried off the orchid! The Frenchman had failed them, but they had managed to get it by boat to the nearest port, and, unsuspected by the police authorities, had reached Holland safely with the unique plant. He had been 'done' over that business, had received but half what he expected. Was it his fault that the paper did not mention where the plant was discovered? The orchid itself was of immense value, and the sum paid to Thomas, for his share in its capture, was by no means a despicable one. Like most ill-gotten gains, however, it had not remained long in his pocket. Driven by necessity, unable to return to his own country, and not knowing where else to turn, he determined to go to Tout-Petit, and seek assistance from Fargis, as his ally had once advised.

He had no money left to pay his way there, but accidentally hearing that a caravan, consisting of a circus, mountebanks, and the usual paraphernalia of a fair, was about to start for Tout-Petit, and that a strong man was wanted in the circus troupe, he offered his services, and was accepted.

But times had changed since the Dutchman, Thomas's former fellow-conspirator, had known Fargis. The past had been effectually buried, Fargis hoped; the last spark of it was the help his smack was intended to give in the conveying away of the orchid. Thomas's many delays in securing the plant had frustrated this plan, but Fargis had done his best. He considered all indebtedness wiped out henceforward. He received Thomas ungraciously, therefore, and beyond a vague promise that he would speak to some other skippers, Thomas had no satisfaction from his visit. Gloomy, and not a little resentful—for he had come far on what he considered his friend's misrepresentation—he wandered aimlessly towards the Fontaine des Eaux. Too busy all day to get away, it was only when the afternoon was far advanced that he managed to go down to see Fargis. The dancing had, therefore, begun before he reached the valley. Strolling up towards the booths, he watched the dancers with a sort of inward anger because people could be so happy when he was so wretched. All at once he caught sight of the group in the shed. His first indifferent glance changed into a look of astonishment. He had not heard of the loss of Estelle, never having dared to write home to his broken-hearted mother. He stood staring, puzzled to behold Lord Lynwood's daughter among all these peasants.

How did she get there? Who were her companions? Why had she been sent from home? His brain worked over the riddle as he lingered under the shadow of the trees and gazed at the well-known face of the child. He found it a hard nut to crack. Suddenly his Dutch friend's question in the cave, just before their rush to save the box with the orchid, recurred to his memory: 'Is not the Earl's daughter an heiress?'

She has been stolen, then! For a moment Thomas was 'struck all of a heap,' as he would have expressed it. He was blinded by the flash that seemed to reveal to him what had happened.

Creeping up closer, he listened to what the group of strangers around the little girl were talking about. To formulate any plans on the spur of the moment, even to take in what this amazing discovery might mean to him in his fallen fortunes, was beyond the power of Thomas's slowly working brain. He must have time to think. He must find out how the land lay. And meanwhile, it would not be wasting precious time if he set himself to find out who were Estelle's protectors; where they lived; what facilities their abode offered for approaching the child; and how he could bring the brilliant but hazy notions now throbbing through his head into something more than mere dreams. His only clear ideas at present were, that the Lady Estelle de Bohun was certainly a great heiress; that the Earl would pay any price, probably, to get her back; and that he, Thomas, must be the important medium through whom this good fortune must be brought about. Thomas, too, would be sure that well-lined pockets did not fail him this time. He had had his lesson in sharpness.

Beyond this point he had not had time to go. Nothing turned up next day to help him, till the early stragglers appeared at the fair in the morning. He was on the alert. He looked and found faces he had seen on the previous night. He managed to get up a talk with one and another, during which it was easy to learn a good deal on the subject of the little waif. Before he saw Estelle again, he found that she lived in the Caves of the Hospice de la Providence; he discovered that Jack was a fisherman, and was often away in the boats, sometimes for several nights together. At such times no one remained on guard except the old woman—by which term he meant Mrs. Wright. He also found out that Estelle had not been stolen. He heard the story of her loss of memory concerning certain vital points, and of the doctor's prophecy that some little thing would, without doubt, reveal the missing link, and restore her powers of recollection. This he was rather sorry to hear. It would have been better if she had remained ignorant till he had made his own terms with her father. However, she was but a child, and could be suppressed. He could see to that.

He saw clearly that the most difficult obstacle to the whole of his somewhat indefinite scheme would be M. le GÉant (Mr. Giant), as the villagers smilingly called Jack. The giant was not a giant to no purpose. He would show fight. There was absolutely no doubt about that. He must, therefore, be away whenever it suited Thomas to act. But—and Thomas thought a great deal over that but—would it be possible to come to some sort of terms with Jack? They might share and share alike. Thomas was quite willing to do that, provided the sum agreed upon was large enough. If he refused, and if Estelle were unable to give an account of herself—that is, if the little something did not occur which should assist her memory—Thomas considered his course clear. Neither her name nor her belongings would be revealed. Jack could not take any steps towards restoring her to her family if he did not know where her home was. Thomas preferred to manage the whole business single-handed. The orchid had been a lesson to him against trusting any one with his secrets. He had come off second-best. Another time it might go even worse with him. No, he would be his own master in this matter.

Careful as his watch was on the crowds surging through the long street of booths that day, he had missed Jack and his party. The tears of the dancing girl, and the loud voice of the woman, he scarcely noticed till they ceased suddenly. The silence aroused his curiosity as the noise had not done. Peeping through the curtains, he saw to his delight and amazement that the child he so longed to seize was standing close by, alone and unprotected.

The golden egg lay ready to his hand. He would be a fool not to take it. His eye wandered for one doubtful second to the broad back of the stalwart sailor. Could he manage it before that giant turned round? It was worth trying. Oh, if he could only get hold of her without her screaming! Possession was nine points of the law!

(Continued on page 286.)