d thrown it at your feet, Mr. Buckhurst."

"Do you not believe me?" he asked, meekly, looking up at the
Countess.

"Mr. Buckhurst," said the young Countess, turning to me, "has aided
me for a long time in experiments. We hoped to find some cheap method
of restoring nitrogen and phosphorus to the worn-out soil which our
poor peasants till. Why should you doubt that he speaks the truth? At
least he is guiltless of any connection with the party which advocated
violence."

I looked at Buckhurst. He was engaged in constructing a multi-pointed
paper star. What else was he busy with? Perhaps I might learn if I
ceased to manifest distrust.

"Does concentrated phosphorus burn like dynamite?" I asked, as if
with newly aroused interest.

"Did you not know it?" he said, warily.

But was he deceived by my manner? Was that the way for me to learn
anything?

There was perhaps another way. Clearly this extraordinary man depended
upon his persuasive eloquence for his living, for the very shoes on
his little, flat feet, as do all such chevaliers of industry. If he
would only begin to argue, if I could only induce him to try his
eloquence on me, and if I could convince him that I myself was but an
ignorant, self-centred, bullet-headed gendarme, doing my duty only
because of perspective advancement, ready perhaps to take
bribes--perhaps even weakly, covetously, credulous--well, perhaps I
might possibly learn why he desired to cling to this poor young lady,
whose life had evidently gone dreadfully to smash, to land her among
such a coterie of thieves and lunatics.

"Mr. Buckhurst," I said, pompously, "in bringing these diamonds to
me you have certainly done all in your power to repair an injury which
concerned all France.

"As I am situated, of course I cannot now ask you to accompany me to
Paris, where doubtless the proper authorities would gladly admit
extenuating circumstances, and credit you with a sincere repentance.
But I put you on your honor to surrender at the first opportunity."

It was as stupidly trite a speech as I could think of.

Buckhurst glanced up at me. Was he taking my measure anew, judging me
from my bray?

"I could easily aid you to leave Morsbronn," he said, stealthily.

"O-ho," thought I, "so you're a German agent, too, as I suspected."
But I said, aloud, simulating astonishment: "Do you mean to say, Mr.
Buckhurst, that you would deliberately risk death to aid a police
officer to bring you before a