eaves you
little or much, this must be for me a labor of love to him who was
secretly my friend, or I will not touch it. He certainly had something,
however, or he would not have tried to write a will. But, my dear madame,
if you do not right here, now, stop looking scared, as if you were about
to steal something instead of saving something from being stolen, it will
cost us a great deal. Go. Make haste! That's right!--Ts-s-st! Hold on!
Which is your own bedroom, upstairs?--Never mind why I ask; tell me. Yes;
all right I Now, go!--Ts-s-st! Bring my hat up as you return."

She went downstairs. Camille tiptoed quickly back into the death chamber,
whipped off his shoes, ran to a small writing-table, then to the bureau,
then to the armoire, trying their drawers. They were locked, every one. He
ran to the bed and searched swiftly under pillows and mattresses--no keys.
Never mind. He wrapped a single sheet about the dead man's form, stepped
lightly to the door, looked out, listened, heard nothing, and tripped back
again.

And then with all his poor strength he lifted the bulk, still limp, in his
arms, and with only two or three halts in the toilsome journey, to dash
the streaming sweat from his brows and to better his hold so that the
heels should not drag on the steps, carried it up to Attalie's small room
and laid it, decently composed, on her bed.

Then he glided downstairs again and had just slipped into his shoes when
Attalie came up hastily from below. She was pale and seemed both
awe-struck and suspicious. As she met him outside the door grief and
dismay were struggling in her eyes with mistrust, and as he coolly handed
her the key of her room indignation joined the strife. She reddened and
flashed:

"My God! you have not, yourself, already?"

"I could not wait, Madame Brouillard. We must run up now, and do for him
whatever cannot be put off; and then you must let me come back, leaving my
hat and shoes and coat up there, and--you understand?"

Yes; the whole thing was heartless and horrible, but--she understood. They
went up.

V.

THE NUNCUPATIVE WILL.

In their sad task upstairs Attalie held command. Camille went and came on
short errands to and from the door of her room, and was let in only once
or twice when, for lifting or some such thing, four hands were
indispensable. Soon both he and she came down to the door of the vacated
room again together. He was in his shirt sleeves and without his shoes