efore he opened it, said courteously to
Faringhea: "With your permission, sir?"

"Make no ceremonies," said the half-caste.

"You are very kind," replied Rodin, as, having read the letter he
received, he wrote hastily some words at the bottom, saying: "Send this
back to the same address."

The servant bowed respectfully, and withdrew.

"Now can I continue"' asked the half-caste, of Rodin.

"Certainly."

"I will continue, then," resumed Faringhea:

"The day before yesterday, just as the prince, all wounded as he
was, was about, by my advice, to take his departure for Paris, a fine
carriage arrived, with superb presents for Djalma, from an unknown
friend. In this carriage were two men--one sent by the unknown
friend--the other a doctor, sent by you to attend upon Djalma, and
accompany him to Paris. It was a charitable act, brother--was it not
so?"

"Go on with your story, sir."

"Djalma set out yesterday. By declaring that the prince's wound would
grow seriously worse, if he did not lie down in the carriage during all
the journey, the doctor got rid of the envoy of the unknown friend, who
went away by himself. The doctor wished to get rid of me too; but Djalma
so strongly insisted upon it, that I accompanied the prince and doctor.
Yesterday evening, we had come about half the distance. The doctor
proposed we should pass the night at an inn. 'We have plenty of time,'
said he, 'to reach Paris by to-morrow evening'--the prince having told
him, that he must absolutely be in Paris by the evening of the 12th. The
doctor had been very pressing to set out alone with the prince. I knew
by Van Dael's letter, that it was of great importance to you for Djalma
not to be here on the 13th; I had my suspicions, and I asked the
doctor if he knew you; he answered with an embarrassed air, and then my
suspicion became certainty. When we reached the inn, whilst the doctor
was occupied with Djalma, I went up to the room of the former, and
examined a box full of phials that he had brought with him. One of them
contained opium--and then I guessed--"

"What did you guess, sir?"

"You shall know. The doctor said to Djalma, before he left him: 'Your
wound is doing well, but the fatigue of the journey might bring on
inflammation; it will be good for you, in the course of to-morrow, to
take a soothing potion, that I will make ready this evening, to have
with us in the carriage.' The doctor's plan was a simple one," added
Faringhea; "to