There was a man lurking in the shadows of a portico nearby, though ’twould somewhat strain credulity to imagine him the elderly tradesman Martin. He was a powerful and burly figure, black habited, of impudent visage quite unlike a gentle relative’s. In the deeper shadows back of him crouched two fellows, one of whom bore in his hand a black cloth.
“Oh, why does not Monsieur Martin come?” said Henriette to herself softly, with a little gesture of half-despair.
“I am your cousin Martin!” said the man, advancing upon them with a smirk that was like a leer.
Henriette involuntarily drew back, withdrawing Louise a few steps with her. Relief and fear of the strange “cousin” struggled within her. The man laid a hand on the elder girl’s arm and at the same time signalled the ruffians. A sudden impulse moved Henriette to wrench herself free.
In a twinkling the three were upon her. While the burly leader tore away her grasp of the blind Louise, the fellow with the 14 cloth threw it over her face and shoulders, stifling her screams.
Not a passer-by in sight!
Fiercely Henriette struggled, twice lifting the cloth from her face, and fiercely Louise sought to twine herself around the body of her lovely guide and protector. But the big man again had thrown the blind girl off, and the fellows, having tied the black cloth, lifted Henriette between them and carried her into a waiting fiacre.
“We’ve got her safe now, La Fleur,” said the kidnappers.
“Drive your hardest to Bel-Air, the Marquis’s fete begins at nine o’clock!” said the villain addressed, who was none other than the famous nobleman’s pander....
What cared the Marquis and La Fleur about the blind one’s misfortunes. As La Fleur had said: