ied her to her room. She was in great pain."

"How did you know my address, my name?"

"From herself, while the doctor was attending to her. Then I telephoned
to you."

"Has any one else been told?"

"No, nobody. I know that Clarisse has had terrible things to bear... and
that she prefers not to be talked about."

"Can I see her?"

"She is asleep just now. And the doctor has forbidden all excitement."

"Is the doctor anxious about her?"

"He is afraid of a fit of fever, any nervous strain, an attack of some
kind which might cause her to make a fresh attempt on her life. And that
would be..."

"What is needed to avoid it?"

"A week or a fortnight of absolute quiet, which is impossible as long as
her little Jacques..."

Lupin interrupted her:

"You think that, if she got her son back..."

"Oh, certainly, there would be nothing more to fear!"

"You're sure? You're sure?... Yes, of course you are!... Well, when
Madame Mergy wakes, tell her from me that I will bring her back her son
this evening, before midnight. This evening, before midnight: it's a
solemn promise."

With these words, Lupin hurried out of the house and, stepping into his
car, shouted to the driver:

"Go to Paris, Square Lamartine, Daubrecq the deputy's!"

CHAPTER VI. THE DEATH-SENTENCE

Lupin's motor-car was not only an office, a writing-room furnished
with books, stationery, pens and ink, but also a regular actor's
dressing-room, containing a complete make-up box, a trunk filled
with every variety of wearing-apparel, another crammed with
"properties"--umbrellas, walking-sticks, scarves, eye-glasses and so
on--in short, a complete set of paraphernalia which enabled him to alter
his appearance from top to toe in the course of a drive.

The man who rang at Daubrecq the deputy's gate, at six o-clock that
evening, was a stout, elderly gentleman, in a black frock-coat, a bowler
hat, spectacles and whiskers.

The portress took him to the front-door of the house and rang the bell.
Victoire appeared.

Lupin asked:

"Can M. Daubrecq see Dr. Vernes?"

"M. Daubrecq is in his bedroom; and it is rather late..."

"Give him my card, please."

He wrote the words, "From Mme. Mergy," in the margin and added:

"There, he is sure to see me."

"But..." Victoire began.

"Oh, drop your buts, old dear, do as I say, and don't make such a fuss
about it!"

She was utterly taken aback and stammered:

"You!... is it you?"

"No, it's Louis