together. "Do not be alarmed," he said. "My wife has been seized with
a violent fever; she is quite delirious now, and that is why I told the
porter to let no one come up."

But the groans in the next room continued, and the unwelcome visitor,
overcome by terror which she could neither surmount nor explain, took a
hasty leave, and descended the staircase with all possible rapidity. As
soon as he could close the door, Derues returned to the bedroom.

Nature frequently collects all her expiring strength at the last moment
of existence. The unhappy lady struggled beneath her coverings; the
agony she suffered had given her a convulsive energy, and inarticulate
sounds proceeded from her mouth. Derues approached and held her on the
bed. She sank back on the pillow, shuddering convulsively, her hands
plucking and twisting the sheets, her teeth chattering and biting the
loose hair which fell over her face and shoulders. "Water! water!" she
cried; and then, "Edouard,--my husband!--Edouard!--is it you?"
Then rising with a last effort, she seized her murderer by the arm,
repeating, "Edouard!--oh!" and then fell heavily, dragging Derues down
with her. His face was against hers; he raised his head, but the dying
hand, clenched in agony, had closed upon him like a vise. The icy
fingers seemed made of iron and could not be opened, as though the
victim had seized on her assassin as a prey, and clung to the proof of
his crime.

Derues at last freed himself, and putting his hand on her heart, "It is
over," he remarked; "she has been a long time about it. What o'clock is
it? Nine! She has struggled against death for twelve hours!"

While the limbs still retained a little warmth, he drew the feet
together, crossed the hands on the breast, and placed the body in the
chest. When he had locked it up, he remade the bed, undressed himself,
and slept comfortably in the other one.

The next day, February 1st, the day he had fixed for the "going out" of
Madame de Lamotte, he caused the chest to be placed on a hand-cart
and carried at about ten o'clock in the morning to the workshop of a
carpenter of his acquaintance called Mouchy, who dwelt near the Louvre.
The two commissionaires employed had been selected in distant quarters,
and did not know each other. They were well paid, and each presented
with a bottle of wine. These men could never be traced. Derues requested
the carpenter's wife to allow the chest to remain in the large workshop,
s