"Remain patient," she urged, in a calm, kindly tone. "I shall never forget my great indebtedness to you, and I will do my utmost in order that you may yet realise your wish to lead an honest life. At this moment I am, like yourself, an outcast, wondering what the future may have in store for me. But be patient and hope, for it shall be my most strenuous endeavour to a.s.sist you to realise your commendable desire."

"Ah! really your Highness is far too kind," he answered, in a voice that seemed to her to falter in emotion. "I only hope that some way will open out to me. I would welcome any appointment, however menial, that took me out of my present shameful profession--that of a thief."

"I really believe you," she said. "I can quite understand that it is against the nature of a man of honour to find himself in your position."

"I a.s.sure you, Princess, that I hate myself," he declared in earnest confidence. "What greater humility can befall a man than to be compelled to admit that he is a thief--as I admitted to you this afternoon? I might have concealed the fact, it is true, and have returned the jewels anonymously; yet an explanation of the reason of my sudden flight from Treysa after all your kindness was surely due to you.

And--well, I was forced to tell you the whole truth, and allow you to judge me as you will."

"As I have already said, Mr. Bourne, your profession does not concern me. Many a man of note and of high position and power in the Ministries of Europe commits far greater peculations than you do, yet is regarded as a great man, and holds the favour of his sovereign until he commits the unpardonable sin of being found out. No, a man is not always what his profession is."

"I thank you for regarding me in such a lenient light, your Highness, and I only look forward with hope to the day when, by some turn of Fortune's wheel, I gain the liberty to be honest," he answered.

"Remember, Mr. Bourne, that I am your friend; and I hope you are still mine in return," she said, for the cab had now stopped at the corner of the Rue d'Amsterdam, as he had ordered it, for it was running unnecessary risk for him to drive with her up to the hotel.

"Thank you, Princess," he said earnestly, raising his hat, his dark, serious eyes meeting hers. "Let us be mutual friends, and perhaps we can help each other. Who knows? When I lay in the hospital with my chest broken in I often used to wonder what you would say if you knew my real ident.i.ty. You, an Imperial Princess, were sending flowers and fruit from the royal table to a criminal for whom half the police in Europe were in active search!"

"Even an Imperial Princess is not devoid of grat.i.tude," she said, when he was out upon the pavement and had closed the door of the cab.

The vehicle moved forward to the hotel, and he was left there, bowing in silence before her, his hat in his hand.

To the hall porter she gave the precious bag, with orders to send it at once to her room, and then turned to pay the cabman.

But the man merely raised his white hat respectfully, saying,--

"Pardon, Madame, but I have already been paid."

Therefore she gave him a couple of francs as tip.

Then she ascended in the lift to her room, where a porter with the bag was awaiting her, and unlocking the door, found that little Ignatia, tired out by her afternoon drive, had not stirred.

Locking the door and throwing off her things, she opened the bag and took out the magnificent ornaments one by one. She had not counted them before leaving the palace, therefore could not possibly tell if all were intact. In handfuls she took them out and laid them in a glittering heap upon the dressing-table, when of a sudden she found among them a small envelope containing something hard to the touch.

This she opened eagerly, and took out a cheap, tiny little brooch, about half an inch long, representing a beetle, scarlet, with black spots--the innocent little insect which has so interested all of us back in our youthful days--a ladybird.

The ornament was a very cheap one, costing one franc at the outside, but in the envelope with it was a letter. This she opened, scanned the few brief lines quickly, then re-read it very carefully, and stood staring at the little brooch in her hand, puzzled and mystified.

The words written there revealed to her the existence of a secret.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

THE LADYBIRD.

The note enclosed with the cheap little brooch ran,--

"If your Imperial Highness will wear this always in a prominent position, so that it can be seen, she will receive the a.s.sistance of unknown friends."

That was all. Yet it was surely a curious request, for her to wear that cheap little ornament.

She turned it over in her hand, then placing it upon a black dress, saw how very prominently the scarlet insect showed.

Then she replaced all the jewels in her bag and retired, full of reflections upon her meeting with the friendly thieves and her curious adventure.

Next morning she took the bag to the Credit Lyonnais, as Roddy Redmayne had suggested, where it was sealed and a receipt for it was given her.

After that she breathed more freely, for the recovery of her jewels now obviated the necessity of her applying either to her father or to Treysa.

The little ladybird she wore, as old Roddy and his companions suggested, and at the bank and in the shops a number of people glanced at it curiously, without, of course, being aware that it was a secret symbol-- of what? Claire wondered.

Both Roddy and Guy had told her that they feared to come to her at the Terminus, as a detective was always lurking in the hall; therefore she was not surprised to receive, about four o'clock, a note from Roddy asking her to meet him at the Vachette at nine.

When Ignatia was asleep she took a cab to the dingy little place, where she found Roddy smoking alone at the same table set out upon the pavement, and joined him there. She shook hands with him, and then was compelled to sip the _bock_ he ordered.

"We will go in a moment," he whispered, so that a man seated near should not overhear. "I thought it best to meet you here rather than risk your hotel. Our friend Bourne asked me to present his best compliments. He left this morning for London."

"For London! Why?"

"Because--well," he added, with a mysterious smile, "there were two agents of police taking an undue interest in him, you know."

"Ah!" she laughed; "I understand perfectly."

The old thief, who wore evening dress beneath his light black overcoat, smoked his cigar with an easy, nonchalant air. He pa.s.sed with every one as an elderly Englishman of comfortable means; yet if one watched closely his quick eyes and the cunning look which sometimes showed in them, they would betray to the observer that he was a sly, ingenious old fellow--a perfect past master of his craft.

Presently they rose, and after she had dismissed her cab, walked in company along the narrow street, at that hour almost deserted.

"The reason I asked you here, your Highness, was to give you the proceeds of the necklet. I sold it to-day to old Perrin for twelve hundred and sixty pounds. A small price, but it was all he would give, as, of course, he believed that I could never have come by it honestly,"

and he grinned broadly, taking from his pocket an envelope bulky with French thousand-franc bank-notes and handing it to her.

"I am really very much obliged," she answered, transferring the envelope to her pocket. "You have rendered me another very great service, Mr.

Redmayne; for as a matter of fact I was almost at the end of my money, and to apply for any would have at once betrayed my whereabouts."

"Ah, your Highness," replied the old thief, "you also have rendered me a service; for with what you gave us last night we shall be able to leave Paris at once. And it is highly necessary, I can tell you, if we are to retain our liberty."

"Oh! then you also are leaving," she exclaimed, surprised, as they walked slowly side by side. She almost regretted, for he had acted with such friendliness towards her.

"Yes; it is imperative. I go to Brussels, and Kinder to Ostend. Are you making a long stay here?"

"To-morrow I too may go; but I don't know where."

"Why not to London, Princess?" he suggested. "My daughter Leucha is there, and would be delighted to be of any service to you--act as your maid or nurse to the little Princess. She's a good girl, is Leucha."

"Is she married?" asked her Highness.

"No. I trained her, and she's as shrewd and clever a young woman as there is in all London. She's a lady's maid," he added, "and to tell you the truth--for you may as well know it at first as at last--she supplies us with much valuable information. She takes a place, for instance, in London or in the country, takes note of where her lady's jewels are kept, and if they are accessible, gives us all the details how best to secure them, and then, on ground of ill-health, or an afflicted mother, or some such excuse, she leaves. And after a week or two we just look in and see what we can pick up. So clever is she that never once has she been suspected," he added, with paternal pride. "Of course, it isn't a nice profession for a girl," he added apologetically, "and I'd like to see her doing something honest. Yet how can she? we couldn't get on without her."

The Princess remained silent for a few moments. Surely her life now was a strange contrast to that at Treysa, mixing with criminals and becoming the confidante of their secrets!

"I should like to meet your daughter," she remarked simply.

"If your Imperial Highness would accept her services, I'm sure she might be of service to you. She's a perfect maid, all the ladies have said; and besides, she knows the world, and would protect you in your present dangerous and lonely position. You want a female companion--if your Highness will permit me to say so--and if you do not object to my Leucha on account of her profession, you are entirely welcome to her services, which to you will be faithful and honest, if nothing else."