the
subjects.

"Yes. I believe you will hear something in the course of a few days.
But," added Sister Gertrude, "I know another secret. Your friend, the
Mother Superior in Paris, is coming here, and ours has been transferred
to Antwerp. The change will be announced, I expect, to-morrow."

At this news Jean expressed the greatest satisfaction, for the grave,
yet rather hard-faced, directress of the convent at Enghien had been so
good and generous that she had become devotedly attached to her. Indeed,
to her she owed her life, for in her despondent state on that morning
when found in the Tuileries Gardens she had seriously contemplated
throwing herself into the Seine.

Jean was therefore loud in praise of the directress from Enghien, and
highly delighted at the thought of her coming to take over the direction
of the English branch of the Order.

"Here is some paper and string to wrap up your work," Sister Gertrude
said at last, handing her an old copy of the _Daily Telegraph_. "I am
taking it with me to Hammersmith this evening."

And then she left the room, promising to return in a few minutes.

Alone, Jean, standing at the window, gazed idly at the newspaper, the
date of which was a Monday in the previous October.

It was strictly against the rules of the Order to read any newspaper,
but as she turned it over, a column headed "Paris Day by Day" caught her
eye. The temptation proved too much, and she scanned it down as she had
been in the habit of scanning the paper each evening in the days when
she had lived at home.

Suddenly a paragraph caught her eye. Her mouth stood open, her eyes
started from their sockets as she read. Then she held her breath,
placing her left hand to her breast as though to stay the beating of her
heart.

Her countenance was blanched to the lips. The words she read were as
follows:

"The daring exploits of the notorious criminal, Ansell,
alias 'The American,' and Carlier, alias 'The Eel,' are at
an end. Yesterday, in Paris, Carlier was sentenced to seven
years' hard labour, and Ansell, it will be remembered, was
shot by the police while swimming the Seine, but his body
was never recovered."

"Dead!" she gasped, white as death. "Shot down by the police--_my
husband!_"

She staggered, clutching at the small deal work-table for support, or
she would have fallen.

"And Adolphe has been sent to prison for seven years!" she went on,
speaking to herself