visited the Villa Amette and have, in a way, defied them, it will
be best to maintain that attitude. Tell them nothing, no matter what
happens."

"I intend to pursue that course. But the worst of it is, Walter, that
the doctors hold out no hope of Mademoiselle's recovery. I saw Duponteil
half an hour ago, and he told me that he could give me no encouraging
information. The bullet has been extracted, but she is hovering between
life and death. I suppose it will be in the papers to-morrow, and
Dorise and her mother will know of my nocturnal visit to the house of a
notorious woman."

"Don't let that worry you, my dear chap. Here, they keep the news of all
tragedies out of the papers, because shooting affairs may be thought by
the public to be due to losses at the Rooms. Recollect that of all the
suicides here--the dozens upon dozens of poor ruined gamesters who are
yearly laid to rest in the Suicides' Cemetery--not a single report has
appeared in any newspaper. So I think you may remain assured that Lady
Ranscomb and her daughter will not learn anything."

"I sincerely hope they won't, otherwise it will go very hard with me,"
Hugh said in a low, intense voice. "Ah! What a night it has been for
me!"

"And if Mademoiselle dies the assailant, whoever he was, will be guilty
of wilful murder; while you, on your part, will never know the truth
concerning your father's death," remarked the elder man, running his
fingers through his hair.

"Yes. That is the position of this moment. But further, I am suspected
of the crime!"

Brock dressed while his friend sat upon the edge of the bed, pale-faced
and agitated. Suppose that the assailant had flung his pistol into the
bushes, and the police eventually discovered it? Then, no doubt, he
would be put across the frontier to be arrested by the police of the
Department of the Alpes Maritimes.

Truly, the situation was most serious.

Together the two men strolled out into the early morning air and sat
upon a seat on the terrace of the Casino watching the sun as it rose
over the tideless sea.

For nearly an hour they sat discussing the affair; then they ascended
the white, dusty road to the beautiful Villa Amette, the home of the
mysterious Mademoiselle.

Old Giulio Cataldi opened the door.

"Alas! m'sieur, Mademoiselle is just the same," he replied in response
to Hugh's eager inquiry. "The police have gone, but Doctor Leneveu is
still upstairs."

"Have the police searched