ght to make you kind of charitable toward my suspicions of Madame
de Vaurigard's friends."

The six hundred dollars in express company checks and the three
hundred-lire bills were all the money the unhappy Mellin had in the
world, and until he could return to Cranston and go back to work in the
real-estate office again, he had no prospect of any more. He had not
even his steamer ticket. In the shock of horror and despair he whispered
brokenly:

"I don't care if they 're the worst people in the world, they're better
than I am!"

The other's gloom cleared a little at this. "Well, you _have_ got it!"
he exclaimed briskly. "You don't know how different you'll feel after a
long walk in the open air." He looked at his watch. "I've got to go and
see what that newspaper-man, Cornish, wants; it's ten o'clock. I'll be
back after a while; I want to reason this out with you. I don't deny but
it's possible I'm wrong; anyway, you think it over while I'm gone. You
take a good hard think, will you?"

As he closed the door, Mellin slowly drew the coverlet over his head. It
was as if he covered the face of some one who had just died.

VIII. What Cornish Knew

Two hours passed before young Cooley returned. He knocked twice without
a reply; then he came in.

The coverlet was still over Mellin's head.

"Asleep?" asked Cooley.

"No."

The coverlet was removed by a shaking hand.

"Murder!" exclaimed Cooley sympathetically, at sight of the other's
face. "A night off certainly does things to you! Better let me get you
some--"

"No. I'll be all right--after while."

"Then I'll go right ahead with our little troubles. I've decided to
leave for Paris by the one-thirty and haven't got a whole lot of time.
Cornish is here with me in the hall: he's got something to say that's
important for you to hear, and I'm goin' to bring him right in." He
waved his hand toward the door, which he had left open. "Come along,
Cornish. Poor ole Mellin'll play Du Barry with us and give us a morning
leevy while he listens in a bed with a palanquin to it. Now let's draw
up chairs and be sociable."

The journalist came in, smoking a long cigar, and took the chair the
youth pushed toward him; but, after a twinkling glance through his big
spectacles at the face on the pillow, he rose and threw the cigar out of
the window.

"Go ahead," said Cooley. "I want you to tell him just what you told me,
and when you're through I want to see if he doesn't