hat he has been ailing of late,"
the man replied; "The Count is very ill, sir; they think he will not
live through the night; the gout has reached his heart."

Du Roy was so startled he did not know what to do! Vaudrec dying! He
stammered: "Thanks--I will call again"--unconscious of what he was
saying. He jumped into a cab and drove home. His wife had returned. He
entered her room out of breath: "Did you know? Vaudrec is dying!"

She was reading a letter and turning to him asked: "What did you say?"

"I said that Vaudrec is dying of an attack of gout."

Then he added: "What shall you do?"

She rose; her face was livid; she burst into tears and buried her face
in her hands. She remained standing, shaken by sobs, torn by anguish.
Suddenly she conquered her grief and wiping her eyes, said: "I am going
to him--do not worry about me--I do not know what time I shall
return--do not expect me."

He replied: "Very well. Go."

They shook hands and she left in such haste that she forgot her gloves.
Georges, after dining alone, began to write his article. He wrote it
according to the minister's instructions, hinting to the readers that
the expedition to Morocco would not take place. He took it, when
completed, to the office, conversed several moments with M. Walter, and
set out again, smoking, with a light heart, he knew not why.

His wife had not returned. He retired and fell asleep. Toward midnight
Madeleine came home. Georges sat up in bed and asked: "Well?"

He had never seen her so pale and agitated. She whispered: "He is dead!"

"Ah--and--he told you nothing?"

"Nothing. He was unconscious when I arrived."

Questions which he dared not ask arose to Georges' lips.

"Lie down and rest," said he.

She disrobed hastily and slipped into bed.

He continued: "Had he any relatives at his death-bed?"

"Only a nephew."

"Ah! Did he often see that nephew?"

"They had not met for ten years."

"Had he other relatives?"

"No, I believe not."

"Will that nephew be his heir?"

"I do not know."

"Was Vaudrec very rich?"

"Yes, very."

"Do you know what he was worth?"

"No, not exactly--one or two millions perhaps."

He said no more. She extinguished the light. He could not sleep. He
looked upon Mme. Walter's promised seventy thousand francs as very
insignificant. Suddenly he thought he heard Madeleine crying. In order
to insure himself he asked: "Are you asleep?"

"No." Her voice was tearful and unsteady.