set at liberty."

"Because he's so downy there's no proofs against him. But betray
others?--never!"

The widow shook her head, as if she were only half convinced of Bras
Rouge's probity. After a few moments' reflection she said:

"I like much better that affair of the Quai de Billy for to-morrow or
next day evening,--the drowning the two women. But Martial will be in
the way as usual."

"Will not the devil's thunder ever rid us of him?" exclaimed Nicholas,
half drunk, and striking his long knife savagely on the table.

"I have told mother that we had enough of him, and that we could not go
on in this way," said Calabash. "As long as he is here we can do nothing
with the children."

"I tell you that he is capable of one day denouncing us,--the villain!"
said Nicholas. "You see, mother, if you would have believed me," he
added, with a savage and significant air, "all would have been settled!"

"There are other means--"

"This is the best!" said the ruffian.

"Now? No!" replied the widow, with a tone so decided that Nicholas was
silent, overcome by the influence of his mother, whom he knew to be as
criminal, as wicked, but still more determined than himself.

The widow added, "To-morrow he will quit the island for ever."

"How?" inquired Nicholas and Calabash at the same time.

"When he comes in pick a quarrel with him,--but boldly, mind,--out to
his face, as you have never yet dared to do. Come to blows, if
necessary. He is powerful, but you will be two, for I will help you.
Mind, no steel,--no blood! Let him be beaten, but not wounded."

"And what then, mother?" asked Nicholas.

"We shall then explain afterwards. We will tell him to leave the island
next day; if not, that the scenes of the night before will occur over
and over again. I know him; these perpetual squabbles disgust him; until
now we have let him be too quiet."

"But he is as obstinate as a mule, and is likely enough to insist upon
staying, because of the children," observed Calabash.

"He's a regular hound; but a row don't frighten him," said Nicholas.

"One? No!" said the widow. "But every day--day by day--it is hell in
earth, and he will give way."

"Suppose he don't?"

"Then I have another sure means to make him go away,--this very night or
to-morrow at farthest," replied the widow, with a singular smile.

"Really, mother!"

"Yes, but I prefer rather to annoy him with a row; and, if that don't
do, why, then, it must be the othe