tance in a favorable light. If the master of
the house had not written to them, it followed, surely, that he meant
to make writing unnecessary by returning on that day.

As the hours passed, the widow and her nieces looked out, from time to
time, for the absent man. Toward noon they observed a little assembly
of people approaching the village. Ere long, on a nearer view, they
recognized at the head of the assembly the chief magistrate of
Toulouse, in his official dress. He was accompanied by his assessor
(also in official dress), by an escort of archers, and by certain
subordinates attached to the town-hall. These last appeared to be
carrying some burden, which was hidden from view by the escort of
archers. The procession stopped at the house of Saturnin Siadoux; and
the two daughters, hastening to the door to discover what had happened,
met the burden which the men were carrying, and saw, stretched on a
litter, the dead body of their father.

The corpse had been found that morning on the banks of the river Lers.
It was stabbed in eleven places with knife or dagger wounds. None of
the valuables about the dead man's person had been touched; his watch
and his money were still in his pockets. Whoever had murdered him, had
murdered him for vengeance, not for gain.

Some time elapsed before even the male members of the family were
sufficiently composed to hear what the officers of justice had to say
to them. When this result had been at length achieved, and when the
necessary inquiries had been made, no information of any kind was
obtained which pointed to the murderer, in the eye of the law. After
expressing his sympathy, and promising that every available means
should be tried to effect the discovery of the criminal, the chief
magistrate gave his orders to his escort, and withdrew.

When night came, the sister and the daughters of the murdered man
retired to the upper part of the house, exhausted by the violence of
their grief. The three brothers were left once more alone in the
parlor, to speak together of the awful calamity which had befallen
them. They were of hot Southern blood, and they looked on one another
with a Southern thirst for vengeance in their tearless eyes.

The silent younger son was now the first to open his lips.

"You charged me yesterday," he said to his brother Thomas, "with
looking strangely at Monsieur Chaubard all the evening; and I answered,
that I might tell you why I looked at