"I should think I did!" protested the old fellow. "Why, it was I who taught her to sing!... Do you think she will be long, my little Nichoune?"
"I don't fancy so! If you would like to come in and wait for her in her room, you will find it at the end of the corridor. It's not locked.... You will find some picture papers on her table."
"Thank you, kind sir," said Vagualame after a moment's hesitation. "I will go in and rest for a few minutes," and, hobbling along, he gained the singer's room. The moment he was inside, and the door safely shut, his whole attitude changed. He looked eagerly about him.
"If there is anything, where is it likely to be?"... He considered. "Why, in the mattress, of course!"
He drew from some hiding-place in his garments a long needle, and began to probe the mattress of Nichoune's bed very carefully.
"Ha, ha!" cried he, suddenly. The needle had come in contact with something difficult to penetrate. "I wager it's what I am after!"
Vagualame slipped his hand, spare and delicately formed, under the counterpane.
"Little idiot!" he exclaimed in a satisfied tone. "She has not even hidden it inside the mattress! She has just slipped it in between the palliasse, and the hair mattress on top—why, she's a child!"
He drew out two envelopes and eagerly read the addresses.
"Oh," cried he, "this is more serious than I thought!... Action must be taken at once!... Nichoune! Nichoune! you are about to play a dangerous game, a game which is likely to cost you dear!"