we come!" had not the first cry attracted a squad of policemen who were passing that way. They ran up to Balthazar's house, and M. Tricamp, the sergeant, realizing that a robbery had been committed, first cautioned him to make less noise, and then demanded that he and his men be admitted without further delay.
CHAPTER IV.
The door opened noiselessly and M. Tricamp entered on tiptoe, followed by another of his men, whom be left on guard in the vestibule, with orders not to permit any one either to come in or go out. It was almost twelve o'clock; the neighbors were fast asleep, and it was easy to see that Gudule, the deaf cook, and Christina, fatigued by the emotions caused by the storm, had heard nothing unusual, as both were sleeping the sleep of the just.
"And now," said the sergeant, lowering his voice, "what is it all about?"
Balthazar dragged him into the study and pointed to the torn papers and broken secrétaire.
M. Tricamp was a little man, whose legs were not big enough to support his unwieldy form; nevertheless, he was very sharp and unusually active. He had one more little peculiarity—he was frightfully near-sighted, which compelled
