about it; next came a long, thin arm with a claw-like hand, then the shoulder followed, and finally the whole body of a slender, emaciated little girl wriggled dexterously, though with much difficulty, through the narrow aperture, and the child dropped down upon the floor as lightly and noiselessly as a feather, a snow-flake, or a waft of thistle-down.  She had been deceived by Isabelle’s remaining so long perfectly quiet, and believed her asleep; but when she softly approached the bed, to make sure that her victim’s slumber had not been disturbed by her own advent, an expression of extreme surprise was depicted on her face, as she got a full view of the head lying upon the pillow and the eyes fixed upon her in speechless terror.  “The lady of the necklace!” she exclaimed aloud.  “Yes, the lady of the necklace!” putting one hand, as she spoke, caressingly upon the string of pearl beads round her little, thin, brown neck.  Isabelle, for her part, though half dead with fright, had recognised the little girl she had first seen at the Blue Sun inn, and afterwards on the road to the Chateau de Bruyeres, in company with Agostino, the brigand.  She tried to cry out for help, but the child put her hand quickly and firmly over her mouth.

“Don’t scream,” she said reassuringly, “nothing shall hurt you.  Chiquita promised that she would never kill nor harm the good, sweet lady, who gave her the pearls that she meant to steal.”

“But what have you come in here for, my poor child?” asked Isabelle, gradually recovering her composure, but filled with surprise at this strange intrusion.

“To open the great bolt on your door there that you are so careful to close every night,” answered Chiquita, in the most matter-of-fact way.  “They chose me for it because I am such a good climber, and as thin and supple as a snake; there are not many holes that I cannot manage to crawl through.”

“And why were you to open my door, Chiquita? so that thieves could come in and steal what few things I have here?  There is nothing of value among them, I assure you.”

“Oh, no!” Chiquita replied disdainfully, “it was to let the men in who were to carry you off.”

“My God!  I am lost!” cried poor Isabelle, wringing her hands in despair.

“Not at all,” said Chiquita, “and you need not be so frightened.  I shall just leave the bolt as it is, and they would not dare to force the door; it would make too much noise, and they would be caught at it; they’re not so silly as that, never fear.”

“But I should have shrieked at the top of my voice, and clung to the bedstead with all my might, if they had tried to take me,” exclaimed Isabelle excitedly, “so that I would have been heard by the people in the neighbouring rooms, and I’m sure they would have come to my rescue.”

“A good gag will stifle any shrieks,” said Chiquita sententiously, with a lofty contempt for Isabelle’s ignorance that was very amusing, “and a blanket rolled tightly about the body prevents any movements; that is an easy matter you see.  They would have carried you off without the slightest difficulty, for the stable boy was bribed, and was to open the back door for them.”