"One morning the janitor asked, mysteriously, to speak to me. I was
surprised, and told him to come in. He was a good, faithful man, an old
soldier, one of my husband's former orderlies.

"He seemed to be embarrassed by what he had to say to me. At last he
managed to mumble:

"'Madame, the superintendent of police is downstairs.'

"I asked quickly:

"'What does he wish?'

"'He wishes to search the house.'

"Of course the police are useful, but I hate them. I do not think that it
is a noble profession. I answered, angered and hurt:

"'Why this search? For what reason? He shall not come in.'

"The janitor continued:

"'He says that there is a criminal hidden in the house.'

"This time I was frightened and I told him to bring the inspector to me,
so that I might get some explanation. He was a man with good manners and
decorated with the Legion of Honor. He begged my pardon for disturbing
me, and then informed me that I had, among my domestics, a convict.