y
possibility conceive, astute officer of the law though you may be."

My expression must have contained something of surprise at his
vehemence, for with an effort he abruptly checked himself and at once
went on more calmly.

"Swift, it's the young lady I expect some day to marry; she 's heard a
rumor of the tragedy, and is worried about me. The note was brought by
her coachman, and she 's waiting on the corner a block from here for me
to come to her."

I tried hard to consider what was best to do. Enter a woman into a
case like this, and assured conduct becomes an impossibility. Maillot
was searching my face eagerly; in a moment he laid more of the matter
before me.

"She 's a sensitive, high-strung girl whom the slightest breath of
scandal would fairly kill. I can't let her name be dragged into this
mess; I can't answer her note, and send the reply away from under your
very nose without a word to you. And the reporters! Gracious heavens!
Swift, Stodger wanted to know what to do with 'em: for pity's sake,
tell him to kill 'em!"

Again I interrupted. I trust that I may in all modesty record that I
have more than a spark of the feelings to which the young fellow made
such a passionate appeal.

"Look here, Maillot, has the young lady a companion?"

"Yes--usually; a young lady cousin who lives with her."

"Very well. If they happen to be together now, we can settle the
matter quite easily. Answer her note; request the two of them to come
here in a half-hour. Within that time we can get rid of the reporters,
and you can--well, you can collect yourself. If your present
expression is an index to what you are likely to say, this will be no
place for a young lady--for the next thirty minutes, anyhow."

He caught and wrung my hand.

"Swift, you 're a damn good fellow!" he said impulsively, and hurried
back to his seat.

However, I did not forget that I had not heard this young man's story;
nor did I fail to consider that he was a lawyer, and hence possessed of
advantages for appreciating and intelligently weighing all the chances
for and against his sweetheart becoming involved.

As Maillot dropped into his chair, Stodger could no longer contain
himself. Drawing me into the hall, though the door was left wide open,
he said, in a whisper that was heavy with importance:

"You 'd never guess whose coachman it was."

I made no attempt to, and my stout friend impressively announced:

"Fluette's."

"W