Valade, who was standing by her chair, glancing around the packed pink-papered saloon with a heavy frown on his face, was a thickset man of coarse, reddened feature, with a discontented air. " O'Higgins laughed. Lost, stolen, or strayed, the Young Person!. Somehow to-night—I don’t know. Love—admiration for your matchless beauty alone sways me. "What is it you want?" she asked, as she held out the coat. "Enough!" exclaimed Wild, triumphantly. But though the shot took effect, as was evident from the stains on the ground, the villain escaped. The last that is known of Monsieur Charvill is when he departed the Valade estate.
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