jured lap-dog.

"Here it is--this must be it," and another key clangs and jingles on the
ground.

"Yes, this time it is the right key." The door flies open--Le Prun
rushes puffing among the bushes. Blassemare sees something drop
glittering to the ground as the door opens--a button and a little rag of
velvet; he says nothing, but pockets it, and joins the moonlight chase.

It is all in vain. Le Prun, perspiring and purple, his passion as
swollen as his veins, knowing not what to think, but fearing every
thing, staggered back, silent and exhausted; Blassemare also silent--no
longer laughing--abstracted, walks with knit brows, and compressed lips,
beside him.

"Of course," said Blassemare, "you have the fullest reliance upon the
honor of your wife?"

Monsieur Le Prun growled an inarticulate curse or two, and Blassemare
whistled a minuet.

"Come, my dear Le Prun," he resumed, "let us be frank; you are uneasy."

"About what?"

"Madame Le Prun."

"She is not injured?"

"No, but----"

"Ah, she's in league with the thieves, may be?" said Le Prun, with an
agitated sneer.

"Precisely so," answered Blassemare, with a cold laugh.

"I know what you think, and I know what _I_ think," replied Le Prun,
with suppressed fury.

His suspicions were all awake; he was bursting with rage, and looked
truly infernal.

"On the faith of a gentleman," said Blassemare, with a changed tone, "I
cannot be said to _think_ any thing about the affair. I have my doubts,
but that is all. We men are naturally suspicious; but, after all, there
are such things as thieves and housebreakers."

Le Prun said nothing, but looked black and icy as the north wind.

"At all events," said Blassemare, "we men of the world know how to deal
with affairs of this sort; so long as any uncertainty exists, put
ostensibly the best possible construction upon it. Thus much is due to
one's dignity in the eyes of the public; and in private we may prosecute
inquiries unsuspected, and with the greater likelihood of success."

"I know the world as well as you, Blassemare. I'm sick of your tone of
superiority and advice. I know when to respect and when to defy the
world. A man can no more make a fortune without tact than he can lose
one without folly."

"Well, well," said Blassemare, who was used to an occasional rebuff, and
regarded a gruff word from his principal no more than he did the buzz of
a beetle, "I know all that very well; but you, robust fellows, w