“But surely, Madame,” I urged, “M. le Comte . . .”

“No, Monsieur,” she replied.  “M. le Comte has flatly refused this time to pay these abominable thieves for the recovery of Carissimo.  He upbraids himself for having yielded to their demands on the three previous occasions.  He calls these demands blackmailing, and vows that to give them money again is to encourage them in their nefarious practices.  Oh! he has been cruel to me, cruel!—­for the first time in my life, Monsieur, my husband has made me unhappy, and if I lose my darling now I shall indeed be broken-hearted.”

I was silent for a moment or two.  I was beginning to wonder what part I should be expected to play in the tragedy which was being unfolded before me by this lovely and impecunious creature.

“Madame la Comtesse,” I suggested tentatively, after a while, “your jewellery . . . you must have a vast number which you seldom wear . . . five thousand francs is soon made up. . . .”

You see, Sir, my hopes of a really good remunerative business had by now dwindled down to vanishing point.  All that was left of them was a vague idea that the beautiful Comtesse would perhaps employ me as an intermediary for the sale of some of her jewellery, in which case . . .  But already her next words disillusioned me even on that point.

“No, Monsieur,” she said; “what would be the use?  Through one of the usual perverse tricks of fate, M. le Comte would be sure to inquire after the very piece of jewellery of which I had so disposed, and moreover . . .”

“Moreover—­yes, Mme. la Comtesse?”

“Moreover, my husband is right,” she concluded decisively.  “If I give in to those thieves to-day and pay them five thousand francs, they would only set to work to steal Carissimo again and demand ten thousand francs from me another time.”

I was silent.  What could I say?  Her argument was indeed unanswerable.

“No, my good M. Ratichon,” she said very determinedly after a while.  “I have quite decided that you must confound those thieves.  They have given me three days’ grace, as you see in their abominable letter.  If after three days the money is not forthcoming, and if in the meanwhile I dare to set a trap for them or in any way communicate with the police, my darling Carissimo will be killed and my heart be broken.”

“Madame la Comtesse,” I entreated, for of a truth I could not bear to see her cry again.

“You must bring Carissimo back to me, M. Ratichon,” she continued peremptorily, “before those awful three days have elapsed.”

“I swear that I will,” I rejoined solemnly; but I must admit that I did it entirely on the spur of the moment, for of a truth I saw no prospect whatever of being able to accomplish what she desired.

“Without my paying a single louis to those execrable thieves,” the exquisite creature went on peremptorily,

“It shall be done, Madame la Comtesse.”