he house last night?"

"None but ourselves," replied the Doctor.

"And this young gentleman?" asked Casimir, jerking a nod in the direction
of Jean-Marie.

"He too"--the Doctor bowed.

"Well; and, if it is a fair question, who is he?" pursued the
brother-in-law.

"Jean-Marie," answered the Doctor, "combines the functions of a son and
stable-boy. He began as the latter, but he rose rapidly to the more
honourable rank in our affections. He is, I may say, the greatest comfort
in our lives."

"Ha!" said Casimir. "And previous to becoming one of you?"

"Jean-Marie has lived a remarkable existence; his experience has been
eminently formative," replied Desprez. "If I had had to choose an
education for my son, I should have chosen such another. Beginning life
with mountebanks and thieves, passing onward to the society and
friendship of philosophers, he may be said to have skimmed the volume of
human life."

"Thieves?" repeated the brother-in-law, with a meditative air.

The Doctor could have bitten his tongue out. He foresaw what was coming,
and prepared his mind for a vigorous defence.

"Did you ever steal yourself?" asked Casimir, turning suddenly on
Jean-Marie, and for the first time employing a single eyeglass which hung
round his neck.

"Yes, sir," replied the boy, with a deep blush.

Casimir turned to the others with pursed lips, and nodded to them
meaningly. "Hey?" said he; "how is that?"

"Jean-Marie is a teller of the truth," returned the Doctor, throwing out
his bust.

"He has never told a lie," added madame. "He is the best of boys."

"Never told a lie, has he not?" reflected Casimir. "Strange, very
strange. Give me your attention, my young friend," he continued. "You
knew about this treasure?"

"He helped to bring it home," interposed the Doctor.

"Desprez, I ask you nothing but to hold your tongue," returned Casimir.
"I mean to question this stable-boy of yours; and if you are so certain
of his innocence, you can afford to let him answer for himself.--Now,
sir," he resumed, pointing his eyeglass straight at Jean-Marie. "You knew
it could be stolen with impunity? You knew you could not be prosecuted?
Come! Did you, or did you not?"

"I did," answered Jean-Marie, in a miserable whisper. He sat there
changing colour like a revolving pharos, twisting his fingers
hysterically, swallowing air, the picture of guilt.

"You knew where it was put?" resumed the inquisitor.

"Yes," from Jean-Marie.