at I should speak to her."

"I am her nephew and perhaps I could take her a message...."

"Very well," said the man. "Please tell Mme. Dugrival that an accident
has supplied me with valuable information concerning the robbery from
which she has suffered and that I should like to go over the flat and
ascertain certain particulars for myself. I am accustomed to this sort
of inquiry; and my call is sure to be of use to her."

Gabriel examined the visitor for a moment, reflected and said:

"In that case, I suppose my aunt will consent ... Pray come in."

He opened the door of the dining-room and stepped back to allow the
other to pass. The stranger walked to the threshold, but, at the moment
when he was crossing it, Gabriel raised his arm and, with a swift
movement, struck him with a dagger over the right shoulder.

A burst of laughter rang through the room:

"Got him!" cried Mme. Dugrival, darting up from her chair. "Well done,
Gabriel! But, I say, you haven't killed the scoundrel, have you?"

"I don't think so, aunt. It's a small blade and I didn't strike him too
hard."

The man was staggering, with his hands stretched in front of him and his
face deathly pale.

"You fool!" sneered the widow. "So you've fallen into the trap ... and a
good job too! We've been looking out for you a long time. Come, my fine
fellow, down with you! You don't care about it, do you? But you can't
help yourself, you see. That's right: one knee on the ground, before the
missus ... now the other knee.... How well we've been brought up!...
Crash, there we go on the floor! Lord, if my poor Dugrival could only
see him like that!... And now, Gabriel, to work!"

She went to her bedroom and opened one of the doors of a hanging
wardrobe filled with dresses. Pulling these aside, she pushed open
another door which formed the back of the wardrobe and led to a room in
the next house:

"Help me carry him, Gabriel. And you'll nurse him as well as you can,
won't you? For the present, he's worth his weight in gold to us, the
artist!..."

* * * * *

The hours succeeded one another. Days passed.

One morning, the wounded man regained a moment's consciousness. He
raised his eyelids and looked around him.

He was lying in a room larger than that in which he had been stabbed, a
room sparsely furnished, with thick curtains hanging before the windows
from top to bottom. There was light enough, however, to enable him to