this fund the night before. The Empress had gone in state, as Cartouche said, to make her splendid gift—and Lafitte's banking-house was not fifteen minutes from where she was in the Rue de l'Echelle.
In a flash, Fifi saw she could do it. She had her white wig and outside of her door was the press in which Angéline kept her best black bonnet, black shawl and gown, in which any woman could look a hundred years old. Oh, it was the simplest thing in the world! The next day was Thursday, the morning Madame Bourcet always went out, and Angéline always stayed at home. It could be done within twenty-four hours!
Fifi danced about her room in rapture. It was now late in the afternoon; she could scarcely wait until the next day. How precious was her white wig to her then!
"Cartouche said I was silly to bring all these things with me," she said to herself gleefully; "and I had to do it secretly—but see, how sensible I was! The fact is, I have a great deal of sense, and I know what is good for me, much better than Cartouche does, or the Bourcets, or the Emperor, or even the Holy Father. How do they
