'No-o,' murmured Maître Farcy and some others; but Colonel Tranchot and his party remained silent.

'I don't care what you think of me,' cried Barberon hotly. 'This is an infernal machination of my enemies.. Because I am not an idiot and a sycophant like themselves, fawning from house to house for patients-because I am wont to speak out my mind plainly without fear of persons, they hate me; and now that I was about to rise to a position in life where I should have overtopped them all, they have sprung this mine to ruin me. That is the whole secret.'

'You cannot be ruined if you are innocent,' remarked old Colonel Tranchot bluntly.

"You think that, do you?' retorted Barberon with a shrug. 'As if there were not dolts enough, who, whenever a man is accused, pretend that "there is no smoke without fire!" gave a jump.) How can I continue to reside in an accusation has been levelled against me? trust, and what woman marry me? Ah, those well knew what they were about when treacherous blow!'

(Here the Colonel a place where such What man would envious scoundrels they dealt me this

As if overcome by the prospect in store for him, Dr. Barberon pressed his hand to his brow and groaned. I could not help feeling for him. After a moment he raised his glance in search of some sympathetic face, and descrying me standing beside Maître Farcy, he advanced and began to speak to us volubly.

He must have become unconscious of where he was, for he addressed us in an excited, confidential way as though there were no one else in the room.

He expatiated on the disappointments he had endured in his married life: his late wife was a weak-witted person of quer ulous temper, who had never understood him; but all the same he had treated her kindly and had tended her with the utmost devotion in her last sickness. Then he dwelt on his early struggles in his profession. He had never had a patron or a friend; from his schooldays he owed everything to his own perseverance; and now, when at last he had obtained an honourable post and had won the affection of a woman whom he loved, and who was fitted to be his helpmate, the cup of his happiness was to be dashed down by the vile hand of calumny. It was too hard-by heavens, it was cruel! . . .

The clock on the mantelshelf struck ten while Dr. Barberon was inveighing against his fate, and he broke off:

. "I must be gone,' he said, consulting his watch. "They are going to disinter my poor wife to-night, and I have been ordered to attend that I may be confronted with her remains. My God, they

want to drive me mad!' . . . and without paying further attention any of us, he hurried from the room.

to

'That man is innocent,' remarked Maître Farcy positively. 'Before six months are past that man will be guillotined,' answered Colonel Tranchot.

II.

THE widow whom Dr. Barberon was to marry was a Madame Perreau: a handsome woman of pleasing address, who might have passed for being thirty instead of forty. She came every year to A-, bringing a numerous suite of servants and her little girl, who, at the time of the events I am relating, was ten years old. This child, Aglae by name, was a pale large-eyed mite in delicate health, upon whom her mother doted. She seemed to have taken a great fancy for Dr. Barberon, who, on his side, appeared to cherish her more than any creature alive, and had always been unremitting in his attendance on her. The widow said that it was owing to his care that Aglae had not died of consumption, and she hinted that it was partly from gratitude that she was going to marry him, partly too that her child might find in Dr. Barberon a second father, willing as well as able to look after her health. It is certain that Madame Perreau would have married no man whom her little daughter disliked; but maternal solicitude was not enough by itself to account for the blooming widow's desire to take a second husband. All who knew her agreed that she was a sociable woman, not fitted to live alone.

Possibly she had conceived a sincere admiration for Dr. Barberon, for women judge men with different eyes from ours. The doctor's vanity, his outbursts of temper, his splenetic invectives against imaginary foes, may have struck her as the outpourings of a mind full of genius. Then, like a warm-hearted woman as she was, it may have flattered her to think that her wealth would be the means of opening a grand career to the man who had wooed her. Madame Perreau's life so far had been rather a strange one. Her first husband, M. Perreau, was a Parisian café proprietor, who had kept her ignorant of the fact that he was amassing a large fortune by speculations on the Bourse. During her ten years of married life, Madame Perreau had sat behind the counter in her husband's café, adding up accounts and serving out liqueurs; but on becoming a widow, she had unexpectedly stepped into an income of about 8000l. a year. The change from comparative drudgery to affluence soon consoled her for the loss of a husband who was many years older than herself, and, by all accounts, not a very amiable consort; so

that as soon as her year's mourning was ended, she set out on a round of travels to gay cities and watering places. But the pleasures of travelling pali after a few years, and Madame Perreau, who had her child's future establishment in view, bethought her of settling down in some place where she might become the centre of a respectable social circle. For this purpose it was necessary that she should remarry. As the rich widow of a publican she was likely to meet with more sycophants than friends; but as the wife of a rising doctor, who might attain to political honours by becoming a deputy, she could lead a very agreeable existence amid select company, and eventually make a capital match for her daughter. That is why she had decided upon becoming Madame Barberon.

Madame Perreau was not a foolish woman. For all her love of showy dresses, luxuries, and amusements, she had a good deal of commercial shrewdness, and never acted without reflection. I suspect that before accepting Dr. Barberon she had taken his moral measure and satisfied herself that she should be able to manage him; whilst he, after studying the widow, must have made up his mind that it would be good for him to be ruled by such a person. Vain men, who are generally moral cowards, deficient in will-power, feel the need of a strong, womanly judgment to rely on, and Dr. Barberon's first wife had failed to afford him such a prop. She was weak, and let him have his own way, even when it was detrimental to him; Madame Perreau, who was not a woman to be bullied, would oblige her husband to exercise a self-control which would benefit his interest; and so there was no reason why they should not be happy together.

Under these circumstances the charge of murder brought against Dr. Barberon fell upon the widow's schemes like a thunderbolt.

I believe all the town had been talking over the affair, before the least rumour of it reached Madame Perreau; for I saw her walking about in public on Barberon's arm several days after the latter was aware of what was bruited against him. Every morning, when it was fine, the widow and her little girl used to go to the Casino to take their sea-baths; in the afternoon they returned very smartly attired, and sat on the terrace overlooking the beach, while the band played. Barberon was always with them. He may have hoped that the evil wind would blow over, and that he would thus be spared the pain, from which his vanity shrank, of letting Madame Perreau learn that he was accused of an odious crime. However, on the day when he was summoned before the Public Prosecutor, he could keep the secret no longer. He called on the widow and explained in what predicament he stood; and even as

he was pouring his angry tale into her horrified ears, a police officer arrived with a mandate ordering Madame Perreau to appear before the Procureur to undergo interrogations on the morrow. All this took place about a couple of hours before Dr. Barberon came to the club where occurred the scene already described.

I left the club twenty minutes after Barberon; and M. Farcy accompanied me. We lodged in the same quarter of the town, and our way lay past the villa which Madame Perreau rented. As we approached we perceived that the house was in great confusion. Lights gleamed in all the windows; servants were hurrying to and fro; and there stood a fly at the door with some luggage already piled on the roof.

"That woman is going to do a silly thing,' remarked Farcy, stopping on the pavement. If she bolts, she will harm Barberon and herself too. I think I'll go in and warn her.'

She may not like your interference,' I observed, taking my British view of duty towards one's neighbour.

"Women require advice in these scrapes,' replied the barrister: women act in a panic without foreseeing consequences. in; don't let us argue when it is a question of doing a kindness.'

Maître Farcy was a burly, impulsive, rather slovenly man, who, from forensic habit, was always on the side of those whom justice vexed. He had defended hundreds of prisoners, and, being always arrayed against the Public Prosecutor, had come to look upon that functionary as his natural enemy. I do not think that he was actuated in the present instance by any desire to play a part in what he foresaw might be a cause célèbre (though of course to provincial advocates such causes are a godsend), but he knew Madame Perreau, and liked her. I also knew her, and followed Farcy into the house, feeling sorry for the widow, and somewhat curious to see how she would bear herself. It was eight o'clock, and not too late for paying a visit, according to French etiquette.

The first thing we saw in the front hall was little Aglae muffled up in wraps, and crying bitterly. She sat forlorn on a portmanteau with no one to attend to her, for the servants were all racing about with boxes and parcels. We passed into the drawing-room, and found Madame Perreau in a travelling dress and bonnet, packing things feverishly into a dressing-bag. Her features were discomposed from fright, and her mind was so far away from her occupation that she picked up things without looking at them, stowing away valuables and trifles pell-mell. She glanced up as we entered, and, reading sympathy on our faces, let her hands drop to her side and moved her lips in a nervous twitching; then she tottered to a

:

chair and burst into tears, hiding her face in her handkerchief:· Oh! this is dreadful!' she sobbed. What am I to do? Have you ever heard such a thing as this accusation of murder?'

'Do not be distressed, Madame Perreau,' said Farcy soothingly. "Everything will come right if you bear up. But you must not think of running away.'

'Am I to stay here, then, to be harried with questions?' cried the widow, rocking herself. 'The Procureur has sent me a summons.'

'Reason the more for obeying it. If you fled he might have you brought back by the police.'

"Oh! but I will fly the country, and never set foot in it again. What have I done? Who can stop me? Am I to be pointed out in the streets, and tortured in a witness-box? Perhaps they will try to make out that I was an accessory to this murder-' and appalled by this thought the widow sprang to her feet and went on with her packing.

'I hope there has been no murder, and that there will be no trial,' suggested Farcy.

6

'There must have been some ground for the charge, or it would not have been made,' said Madame Perreau drily. Dr. Barberon has told me a long, rambling story, which I cannot understand; and I will never forgive him for having placed me in this predicament-never!'

This was unreasonable, but the widow seemed to have no commiseration to bestow on the luckless doctor. All her concern was for herself and her daughter. She was suddenly seized with terror at not seeing Aglae in the room, and ran to the door to call her. Aglae came in with her knuckles in her eyes, and her voice choked with sobs-at which desolate sight the mother's tears burst out afresh, and she clasped the child in her arms, crying over her, and vowing that no powers of earth should part them: 'Don't grieve, my darling,' she said, 'mamma will remain with you, and we will go away from the wicked men who want to harm us.' at once pitiful and touching to hear her.

It was

However, when the first burst of Madame Perreau's emotion had spent itself, I ventured to join my voice to Farcy's, and to point out what damage she would do to Dr. Barberon if she did not stay to testify what she could in his favour. Our words seemed to produce an impression on her.

Very well, I will stay,' she said at last, with a sort of impatience: 'I will say what I can for him, but that will not be much.'

If you can speak to his character, that will probably be