# The Lonesomest Doll (1928)/Chapter 12

XII
The Robbers
Presently into a ray of moonlight came two villainous faces, villainous as far as Clotilde could see them under the slouched hats which cast them into evil shadows. One was dark, with a scar running across the nose from eye to lip. And one was puffed and purple, with a short red beard bristling on cheek and chin.
Clotilde’s heart sank. She jumped to her feet and tried to dodge into the shadow, for she knew these were no friends. But it was too late. One of the men, he with the livid scar, had spied her, and came running up.
​“Not so fast, little one, not so fast!” he cried in a gruff voice, and he laid a rough hand on Clotilde’s arm. The other man hurried up, and after a long stare at her whispered in his com­rade’s ear,—“It is she, the Queen; we’re in luck, Jacques!” But aloud he said, “How now, my pretty one! Where are you going so late? Is it not time for little folks to be abed?”
The Queen was thoroughly frightened now, but she felt that she must not let these men see it. She drew herself up proudly.
“I am the Queen,” she said. “Hands off, fel­lows! And take me to my palace.” But she saw the short man wink at the other, and they both began to laugh.
“Hoity toity! The Queen, you say?” cried the tall one whose name was Jacques. “You can’t make us believe that the Queen would be out here so late, and alone. Tell us another story, child.” He drew Clotilde forward into the moonlight, though she held back as strongly as she could.
Suddenly the man’s eye caught the flash of the jewels on Mignon’s dress and crown. “What’s that you have there?” he said eagerly, at the ​same time giving his companion a nudge and pointing to the doll.
“It is my doll, Mignon. Everybody has heard of Mignon,” said the Queen, hugging the lonesomest doll closer, and trying to wriggle away from the rough grasp of Jacques. But he held her all the tighter; and with an exclamation, Jean, the other ruffian, drew near and bent down to look at Mignon in the moonlight.
“Oh, yes, we have heard of the Queen’s pre­cious doll,” he said. “But that does not explain how you happen to have her, my pretty. I am afraid you found those lost keys about which there is such a to-do in the village there. And I believe you took the opportunity to steal into the Queen’s palace and pick out a dollie for your­self. But this is too fine a plaything for most little girls. I’m afraid we must take you to the sheriff and hear an explanation.” And he made a sign to Jacques over Clotilde’s head.
“It is not true. I am the Queen!” protested Clotilde indignantly, stamping her foot. Just then from somewhere sounded the thud of horses’ hoofs, coming nearer and nearer.
“They’re coming,—we must be quick!” ex-​claimed Jean. The two men whispered together for a moment, and suddenly Jacques clapped his hand over Clotilde’s mouth and swung her up upon his shoulder, Mignon and all, for the Queen held her dollie close. Clotilde struggled and kicked. But it was of no use, he held her firmly and evidently did not mean to let her go.
The other man ran on ahead, Jacques with his burden following closely. Presently they came to a tree where two horses were tied. The men came to a standstill, and Jacques took his hand from the Queen’s mouth to untie his horse. Then Clotilde seized the chance to scream, and scream she did as loud as her little lungs would let her. But with an angry word Jean stepped up to her and Br-r-r! she felt her mouth bound fast with a great handkerchief.
“No more of that, my lady,” he said roughly. “You’ll come to prison quietly with us and it will be all right. Just let those fellows who are coming catch you and, whew! you’ll be sorry!” But Clotilde knew that, whoever they might be, she could never fear any one half so much as those two men with bad, bad faces.
“Better tie her up, Jacques,” said Jean in a ​low voice. “You have your hands full now to manage Black Bête.” And presently Clotilde felt something tight drawn about her ankles, fasten­ing them together; while rough cords bound her arms down close, close over Mignon so that she could not stir nor struggle. Oh, how helpless she felt, dumb and stiff and straightened as she was!
Jean was already on his horse. “Hurry, Jacques!” he cried, “they are nearing fast.”
In a moment Jacques also was in the saddle, with Clotilde fast held in one arm. Then Black Bête snorted and dashed away at the kick which the ruffian gave him.
“We must get to the Black Wood road before they find our tracks,” cried Jean. “It is a wild game we are playing, and if we lose,—we are lost.”
Clotilde’s heart sank. She knew now who these men were. She had often heard of the bold robbers who lived in the Black Wood, outlaws of another kingdom. Jean and Jacques were rob­bers! Oh, they would kill her and steal Mignon for the sake of her jewels! She had seen how their greedy eyes glittered at the sight of the doll’s ornaments. But she did not guess what ​Jean and Jacques really meant to do, which was to steal Clotilde herself and keep her in their forest den until her people should pay an enor­mous ransom of gold and silver to get her back.
The robbers had slunk into Clotilde’s town that afternoon in disguise, to see what mischief there was afoot. And as luck would have it, they had stayed long enough to hear all the outcry upon the Queen’s disappearance. So they had put their wicked heads together, and had decided to try to find her, if she was to be found. They had hunted and prowled in vain, and were just about to give up the search in disgust, when by chance they had stumbled upon the poor little Queen, just as she was fleeing from Pierre’s house. And here they were now galloping away towards the Black Wood with Queen Clotilde and her famous doll,—which was better luck even than they had hoped for.