with
sobs that she added, pointing to M. de Chalusse: "But at half-past six
they brought him back as you see him now----"

An interval of silence ensued, so deep that one could hear the faint
breathing of the unconscious man still lying motionless on his bed.
However, the particulars of the attack were yet to be learned; and it
was M. Casimir whom the physician next addressed. "What did the driver
who brought your master home say to you?"

"Oh! almost nothing, sir; not ten words."

"You must find this man and bring him to me."

Two servants rushed out in search of him. He could not be far away, for
his vehicle was still standing in the courtyard. They found him in
a wine-shop near by. Some of the inquisitive spectators who had been
disappointed in their curiosity by Casimir's thoughtfulness had treated
him to some liquor, and in exchange he had told them all he knew about
the affair. He had quite recovered from his fright, and was cheerful,
even gay.

"Come make haste, you are wanted," said the servants.

He emptied his glass and followed them with very bad grace, muttering
and swearing between his set teeth. The doctor, strange to say, was
considerate enough to go out into the hall to question him; but no
information of value was gained by the man's answers. He declared that
the gentleman had hired him at twelve o'clock, hoping by this means
to extort pay for five hours' driving, which, joined to the liberal
gratuity he could not fail to obtain, would remunerate him handsomely
for his day's work. Living is dear, it should be remembered, and a
fellow makes as much as he can.

When the cabby had gone off, still growling, although a couple of louis
had been placed in his hand, the doctor returned to his patient. He
involuntarily assumed his accustomed attitude, with crossed arms, a
gloomy expression of countenance, and his forehead furrowed as if with
thought and anxiety. But this time he was not acting a part. In spite,
or rather by reason of, the full explanation that had been given him,
he found something suspicious and mysterious in the whole affair. A
thousand vague and undefinable suspicions crossed his mind. Was he in
presence of a crime? Certainly, evidently not. But what was the cause
then of the mystery and reticence he detected? Was he upon the track of
some lamentable family secret--one of those terrible scandals, concealed
for a long time, but which at last burst forth with startling effect?
The pros