"Just in time," said the thief-taker. The owner of this dress had a broad weather-beaten face, small twinkling eyes, and a bushy, grizzled beard. A Madame Valade and her husband. It had been his fevered imagination that had endued the garment with some extraordinary value. Listening at one of the doors leading to the Master Debtors' side, he heard a loud voice chanting a Bacchanalian melody, and the boisterous laughter that accompanied the song, convinced him that no suspicion was entertained in this quarter. “Looks like old times here, I see.
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