ieur; he is out; there hangs his key.
Madame? No, she is within. Yes, that is certain, for not long
since she rang her bell. There, it goes again."

He looked up at the furiously oscillating bell, but made no move.

"Bah! they do not pay for service; let her come and say what she
needs."

"Exactly; and we will bring her," said the officer, making for the
stairs and the room indicated.

But on reaching the door, they found it locked. From within?
Hardly, for as they stood there in doubt, a voice inside cried
vehemently:

"Let me out! Help! Help! Send for the police. I have much to tell
them. Quick! Let me out."

"We are here, my dear, just as you require us. But wait; step
down, Gaston, and see if the clerk has a second key. If not, call
in a locksmith--the nearest. A little patience only, my beauty. Do
not fear."

The key was quickly produced, and an entrance effected.

A woman stood there in a defiant attitude, with arms akimbo;
she, no doubt, of whom they were in search. A tall, rather
masculine-looking creature, with a dark, handsome face, bold black
eyes just now flashing fiercely, rage in every feature.

"Madame Dufour?" began the police officer.

"Dufour! Rot! My name is Hortense Petitpre; who are you? _La
Rousse_?" (Police.)

"At your service. Have you anything to say to us? We have come on
purpose to take you to the Prefecture quietly, if you will let us;
or--"

"I will go quietly. I ask nothing better. I have to lay
information against a miscreant--a murderer--the vile assassin
who would have made me his accomplice--the banker, Quadling, of
Rome!"

In the fiacre Hortense Petitpre talked on with such incessant
abuse, virulent and violent, of Quadling, that her charges were
neither precise nor intelligible.

It was not until she appeared before M. Beaumont le Hardi, and was
handled with great dexterity by that practised examiner, that her
story took definite form.

What she had to say will be best told in the clear, formal
language of the official disposition.

The witness inculpated stated:

"She was named Aglae Hortense Petitpre, thirty-four years of age,
a Frenchwoman, born in Paris, Rue de Vincennes No. 374. Was
engaged by the Contessa Castagneto, November 19, 189--, in Rome,
as lady's maid, and there, at her mistress's domicile, became
acquainted with the Sieur Francis Quadling, a banker of the Via
Condotti, Rome.

"Quadling had pretensions to the hand of the Countess, and sought,