"I shall succeed, Saint-Quentin. I swear it. I am not at the end of my revelations. There is another which will persuade them perhaps to be more open with me."
"What is it, Dorothy?"
"I know what I'm doing, my lad."
She was silent. She gazed through the open window near which Castor and Pollux were fighting. The noise of hurrying footsteps reëchoed about the château. People were calling out to one another. A servant ran across the court at full speed and shut the gates, leaving a small part of the crowd and three or four caravans, of which one was Dorothy's Circus, in the court-yard.
"The p-p-policemen! The p-p-policemen!" stammered Saint-Quintin. "There they are! They're examining the Rifle-Range!"
"And d'Estreicher is with them," observed the young girl.
"Oh, Dorothy, what have you done?"
"It's all the same to me," she said, wholly unmoved. "These people have a secret which perhaps belongs to me as much as to them. I wish to know it. Excitement, sensations, all that works in my favor."
"Nevertheless...."
"Pipe, Saint-Quentin. To-day decides my future. Instead of trembling, rejoice ... a fox-trot, old chap!"