Mrs. Courtois.

"Now, sir," began M. de Boiscoran, with that slight angry tone of voice
which shows that a man thinks a joke has been carried far enough, "will
you please tell me what procures for me the honor of this early visit?"

Not a muscle in M. Galpin's face was moving. As if the question had been
addressed to some one else, he said coldly,--

"Will you please show us your hands, sir?"

M. de Boiscoran's cheeks turned crimson; and his eyes assumed an
expression of strange perplexity.

"If this is a joke," he said, "it has perhaps lasted long enough."

He was evidently getting angry. M. Daubigeon thought it better to
interfere, and thus he said,--

"Unfortunately, sir, the question is a most serious one. Do what the
magistrate desires."

More and more amazed, M. de Boiscoran looked rapidly around him. In the
door stood Anthony, his faithful old servant, with anguish on his face.
Near the fireplace, the clerk had improvised a table, and put his paper,
his pens, and his horn inkstand in readiness. Then with a shrug of his
shoulders, which showed that he failed to understand, M. de Boiscoran
showed his hands.

They were perfectly clean and white: the long nails were carefully
cleaned also.

"When did you last wash your hands?" asked M. Galpin, after having
examined them minutely.

At this question, M. de Boiscoran's face brightened up; and, breaking
out into a hearty laugh, he said,--

"Upon my word! I confess you nearly caught me. I was on the point of
getting angry. I almost feared"--

"And there was good reason for fear," said M. Galpin; "for a terrible
charge has been brought against you. And it may be, that on your answer
to my question, ridiculous as it seems to you, your honor may depend,
and perhaps your liberty."

This time there was no mistake possible. M. de Boiscoran felt that kind
of terror which the law inspires even in the best of men, when they find
themselves suddenly accused of a crime. He turned pale, and then he said
in a troubled voice,--

"What! A charge has been brought against me, and you, M. Galpin, come to
my house to examine me?"

"I am a magistrate, sir."

"But you were also my friend. If anyone should have dared in my presence
to accuse you of a crime, of a mean act, of something infamous, I should
have defended you, sir, with all my energy, without hesitation, and
without a doubt. I should have defended you till absolute, undeniable
evidence should have been broug