ry," said Albert, with an air which hinted that this
was a sufficient reason why the rest should not hear it. "Banin is in
prison."

Elysee proceeded: "The girl was reprimanded. Next week she disappeared.
To one of her companions she had confided a great desire to see Paris.
So good Father Delette was summoned, and, after a talk with the
Superioress, started post-haste for the capital. He found no signs
either of poor Renee or of Banin, who had also disappeared. The Cure
was nearly heart-broken. Each day, they told me, added a year to his
appearance. He did not cease to importune the police chiefs and to
haunt the public places for a glimpse of his niece's face. But the
summer came, and no Renee. The Cure began to cough and grow weak. But
one day in August the Director, good Prosper, called him down to the
reception-room to see a visitor.

"'There is news for you,'" he whispered, pressing poor Martin's hand.
In the room he found--"

"In the room he found--" broke in Albert, impertinently, but with a
quiet tone of authority which cowed good Elysee, "a shabby man, looking
like a poorly fed waiter. This person rose and said, 'I am a detective;
do you know Banin--young man, tall, blond, squints, broken tooth upper
jaw, hat back on his head, much talk, hails from Rheims?'

"'Ah,' said Delette, 'I have not seen him, but I know him too well.'

"The detective pointed with his thumb over his left shoulder. 'He is in
jail. He is good for twenty years. I did it myself. My name is
So-and-so. Good job. Procurator said you were interested--some woman in
the case, parishioner of yours, eh?'

"'My niece,' gasped the Cure.

"'O ho! does you credit; pretty girl, curly head. good manners. Well,
she's off. Good trick, too. She was the decoy. Banin stood in the
shadow with club. She brought gentleman into alley, friend did work.
That's Banin's story. Perhaps a lie. You have a brother in Algiers?
Thought so. Girl went out there once? So I was told. Probably there
now. African officers say not; but they're a sleepy lot. If I was a
criminal I'd go to Algiers. Good hiding. The detective went. Delette
stood where he was in silence. I went to him, and helped carry him
upstairs. We put him in his bed. He died there."

Brother Albeit stopped. He had told the story, dialogue and all, like a
machine. We did not doubt its correctness. The memory of Albert had
passed into a proverb years before.

Brother Albert raised his eyes again, and add