ed. I have not seen Madame, and who is there who
could--who would--tell her of Armand's----" And Philippe broke off
abruptly, with despairing shrug, and outward wave of his slender hand.

"Let us try to see that she never does know," said Waring. "These are
the men we need to find: the driver of the cab, the stranger whose name
sounded so like yours, a tall, swarthy, black-haired, black-eyed fellow
with pointed moustache----"

"_C'est lui! c'est bien lui!_" exclaimed Lascelles,--"the very man who
insisted on entering the private office where, Armand and I, we close
our affairs that morning. His whispered words make my brother all of
pale, and yet he go off humming to himself."

"Oh, we'll nail him," said Cram. "Two of the best detectives in the
South are on his trail now."

And then came Ananias with a silver tray, champagne, and glasses (from
Mrs. Cram), and the conference went on another hour before the guests
went off.

"Bless my soul!" said Brax, whose diameter seemed in no wise increased
by the quart of Roederer he had swallowed with such gusto,--"bless my
soul! and to think I believed that we were going to have a duel with
some of those fellows a fortnight or so ago!"

Then entered "Pills" and ordered Waring back to bed. He was sleeping
placidly when, late that evening, Reynolds and Cram came tearing up the
stair-way, full of great news; but the doctor said not to wake him.

Meantime, how fared it with that bruised reed, the lone widow of the
late Lieutenant Doyle? Poor old Jim had been laid away with military
honors under the flag at Chalmette, and his faithful Bridget was
spending the days in the public calaboose. Drunk and disorderly was the
charge on which she had been arraigned, and, though she declared herself
abundantly able to pay her fine twice over, Mr. Pepper had warned the
authorities to keep her under lock and key and out of liquor, as her
testimony would be of vital importance, if for nothing better than to
send her up for perjury. Now she was alternately wheedling, cursing,
coaxing, bribing; all to no purpose. The agent of the Lemaitre property
had swooped down on the dove-cot and found a beggarly array of empty
bottles and a good deal of discarded feminine gear scattered about on
both floors. One room in which certain detectives were vastly interested
contained the unsavory relics of a late supper. Three or four empty
champagne-bottles, some shattered glasses, and, what seemed most to
attra