“He was close pressed by the police,” the “lady cop” explained. “It was his one chance. And he lost; which was right enough.”
“And now,” came in a polite tone from the corner, “if I may have a word with Petite Jeanne?” It was the little Frenchman. “But where is she? I do not see her.”
“Meg,” said Jeanne imploringly, “have you a dress to loan me?”
“Sure have!”
They disappeared.
Five minutes later Jeanne reappeared in a blue calico dress.
“I am Petite Jeanne.” She bowed low to the little Frenchman.
“Ah, yes! So you are. Then it is my pleasure to announce that you are sole heir to a great castle in France. It is known as ‘Le Neuf Chateau.’ But it is truly very old and carries with it a broad estate.”
“A castle!” Jeanne seemed undecided whether to shout or weep. “A great castle for poor little me?”
“Ah, my child,” the Frenchman put in quickly, “it will not be necessary—it is quite unnecessary for you to reside there. Indeed, at this moment it is rented, for an unheard of rental, to a rich American who fancies castles and is fond of following the hounds.”