'It is nothing,' said poor Julia, much distressed by his stern and
scrutinising look.

'Nothing? I fear it is something! Alas! I begin to lose hope.'

'Hope of what?' asked Julia wonderingly.

'Of your innocence!' replied the commissaire sternly.

'Mon Dieu! What do you mean?'

'Ah, restez tranquille, pauvre demoiselle; nous verrons toute-suite.'
And with a shrug, he continued his investigation of the contents of the
reticule-basket. It contained a great variety of little knick-knacks,
which, with much patience, the commissaire turned out and examined, one
by one. At length he came to a little parcel, the paper-envelope of
which appeared to be part of an old letter, and was thickly covered with
writing. It was one of Victor's letters. Julia blushed again.

'What have we here?' demanded the constable.

'I forget what there is inside,' said Julia. 'I hardly knew it was
there.'

'Let us see.'

He opened two or three wrappers--the portion of the letter formed the
outside one, the others being blank white paper--and there fell out,
descending upon the table with a sharp jingle, a pair of gold bracelets,
ornamented with pearls and turquoises, a superb coral necklace, and a