pect of being mixed up in such an affair caused him infinite
pleasure. It would bring him into notice; he would be mentioned in the
papers; and his increased practice would fill his hands with gold.

But what could he do to ingratiate himself with these people, impose
himself upon them if needs be? He reflected for some time, and finally
what he thought an excellent plan occurred to him. He approached
Mademoiselle Marguerite, who was weeping in an arm-chair, and touched
her gently on the shoulder. She sprang to her feet at once. "One more
question, mademoiselle," said he, imparting as much solemnity to his
tone as he could. "Do you know what liquid it was that M. de Chalusse
took this morning?"

"Alas! no, monsieur."

"It is very important that I should know. The accuracy of my diagnosis
is dependent upon it. What has become of the vial?"

"I think M. de Chalusse replaced it in his escritoire."

The physician pointed to an article of furniture to the left of the
fireplace: "There?" he asked.

"Yes, monsieur."

He deliberated, but at last conquering his hesitation, he said: "Could
we not obtain this vial?"

Mademoiselle Marguerite blushed. "I haven't the key," she faltered, in
evident embarrassment.

M. Casimir approached: "It must be in the count's pocket, and if
mademoiselle will allow me----"

But she stepped back with outstretched arms as if to protect the
escritoire. "No," she exclaimed, "no--the escritoire shall not be
touched. I will not permit it----"

"But, mademoiselle," insisted the doctor, "your father----"

"The Count de Chalusse is not my father!"

Dr. Jodon was greatly disconcerted by Mademoiselle Marguerite's
vehemence. "Ah!" said he, in three different tones, "ah! ah!"

In less than a second, a thousand strange and contradictory suppositions
darted through his brain. Who, then, could this girl be, if she were not
Mademoiselle de Chalusse? What right had she in that house? How was
it that she reigned as a sovereign there? Above all, why this angry
outburst for no other apparent cause than a very natural and exceedingly
insignificant request on his part?

However, she had regained her self-possession, and it was easy to see
by her manner that she was seeking some means of escape from threatened
danger. At last she found it. "Casimir," she said, authoritatively,
"search M. de Chalusse's pocket for the key of his escritoire."

Astonished by what he regarded as a new caprice, the valet obe