motions so
various I will not attempt to describe them. But hearing the King's name
thus prostituted I started forward with a violence which made my
presence known. Felix, confounded by the sight of a stranger at his
elbow, rose from his seat, and retreating before me with alarm painted
on his countenance, he asked with a faltering tongue who I was.

I replied as gently as possible that I was a friend, anxious to assist
him. Notwithstanding that, seeing that I kept my cloak about my
face--for I was not willing to be recognized--he continued to look at me
with distrust.

"What is your will?" he said, raising the lamp much as his wife had
done, to see me the better.

"The answers to two or three questions," I replied. "Answer them truly,
and I promise you your troubles are at an end." So saying, I drew from
my pouch the scrap of paper which had come to me so strangely. "When did
you write this, my friend?" I continued, placing it before him.

He drew a deep breath at sight of it, and a look of comprehension
crossed his face. For a moment he hesitated. Then in a hurried manner he
said that he had never seen the paper.

"Come," I rejoined sternly, "look at it again. Let there be no mistake.
When did you write that, and why?"

Still he shook his head; and, though I pressed him, he continued so
stubborn in his denial that, but for the look I had seen on his face
when I produced the paper, and the strange coincidence of his dismissal,
I might have believed him. As it was, I saw nothing for it but to have
him arrested and brought to my house, where I did not doubt he would
tell the truth; and I was about to retire to give the order, when
something in a sidelong glance which he cast at his wife caught my eye,
and furnished me with a new idea. Acting on it, I affected to be
satisfied. I apologized for my intrusion on the ground of mistake; and,
withdrawing to the door, I asked him at the last moment to light me
downstairs.

Complying with a shaking hand, he went out before me, and had nearly
reached the foot of the staircase when I touched him on the shoulder.

"Now," I said, fixing him with my eyes, "your wife is no longer
listening, and you can tell me the truth. Who employed you to write
those words?"

Trembling so violently that he had to lean on the balustrade for
support, he told me.

"Madame Nicholas," he whispered.

"What?" I cried, recoiling. I had no doubt he was telling me the truth.
"The secretary's wif