"I was about to say I would look—I would search."
Ste. Luce smiled. "Suppose we begin with you?"
"I have it not."
"Well, but where is it? I am not a man to be trifled with. Come, quick, or I must ask the gendarmes yonder for a bit of help."
François looked at him. There was menace in those cold gray eyes. Should he trust to his own long legs? At this instant he heard a sob, and glancing to the right, saw the woman seated on the bench with her face in her hands, the little fellow at her side saying: "Do not cry, mama; the gentleman will help us." The gentleman was ill clothed and seedy. He had seen women cry, but they were not like this woman.
"M. le Marquis does me injustice. Permit that my dog and I search a little."
The marquis smiled again. "Pardieu! and if you search, and meanwhile take a fancy to run, your legs are long; but now I have you. How the deuce can I trust a thief?"
The little lad looked up. "I will go with monsieur to look—and the dog; we will find it, mama."
"Monsieur may trust me; I will not run away," said François. "If monsieur desires to search me?"
"I do not search thieves."