"Tartar, monsieur,—yes! Ah! Oh!"
"Tartar? Tartar? Why, that's the name of——"
"Yes, monsieur, the dog! Poor Tartar!"
"So le Cochon killed your dog, eh?"
"Yes, monsieur," sobbed Fouchette.
Monsieur l'Inspecteur was silent for a while, thoughtfully regarding the grieving child with his fishy eyes.
"After all, it was murder," he said. "Had this man committed no other crime, he deserves death for having killed such a noble beast."
"Ah! thank you, monsieur! Thank you very much!"
Having established this happy entente, Inspector Loup and Fouchette entered into a long and interesting conversation,—interesting especially to the chief of the Secret System.
When the interview was over Fouchette was led away almost quite happy. Happier, at least, than she had ever been,—far happier than she had ever hoped to be. First, she had been promised her revenge; second, she was neither to go back to the Rendez-Vous pour Cochers nor to be turned into the street; third, she was to be sent to a beautiful retreat outside of Paris, where she would be taught to read and write and be brought up as a lady.