"Do you know this, little one? Where it comes from, where there is much
more? I was told to look for it, to search for it on you;" and with a
quick gesture she lifted the edge of the Countess's skirt, dropping it
next moment with a low, chuckling laugh.

"Oho! aha! You were right, my pretty, to pay me, my pretty--right. And
some day, to-day, to-morrow, whenever I ask you, you will remember
Mother Tontaine."

The Countess listened with dismay. What had she done? Put herself into
the power of this greedy and unscrupulous old beldame?

"And this, my princess? What have we here, aha?"

Mère Tontaine held up next the broken bit of jet ornament for
inspection, and as the Countess leaned forward to examine it more
closely, gave it into her hand.

"You recognize it, of course. But be careful, my pretty! Beware! If any
one were looking, it would ruin you. I could not save you then. Sh! say
nothing, only look, and quick, give it me back. I must have it to show."

All this time the Countess was turning the jet over and over in her open
palm, with a perplexed, disturbed, but hardly a terrified air.

Yes, she knew it, or thought she knew it. It had been--But how had it
come here, into the possession of this base myrmidon of the French
police?