"What!" ejaculated Cambray, incredulously. "The little girl who sat shivering in the snow?"
"Yes; she is our most skilful detective, and has entrapped more than one conspirator," triumphantly interrupted De Fervlans.
"Then"—and M. Cambray brought his hands together in a vehement gesture—"what I have believed a myth is really true. The police authorities really employ a number of beautiful women, handsome young men, and clever children to spy out and entrap suspected persons? 'Cythera's Brigade' really exists?"
"You had the pleasure of meeting that celebrated brigade this morning," replied De Fervlans.
"And those grateful men and women, who gathered about me with tearful eyes and sympathetic words—"
"Were members of Cythera's Brigade," supplemented the marquis.
"And the mistress of the house—the beautiful woman who fainted at sight of her child?"
"Is the fair Cythera's substitute! She taught her little daughter the part she played so successfully."
With sudden fury M. Cambray tore from his breast the ivory locket containing the little Amélie's portrait, and was about to fling it on the floor and trample upon it. On second thought, he restrained himself, returned the locket to his breast, and muttered:
"The child is not to blame. Those who have made her such a monster are at fault. I will keep the miniature as a talisman for the future."