at which the carriage had
stopped, intercepted Rodin's view.

"No matter," said he, recovering his coolness: "I shall know presently
who is there. I must write at once to Jacques Dumoulin, to come hither
immediately. He served me well, with regard to that little slut in the
Rue Clovis, who made my hair stand on end with her infernal Beranger.
This time, Dumoulin may serve me again. I have him in my clutches, and
he will obey me."

Rodin sat down to his desk and wrote. A few seconds later, some one
knocked at the door, which was double-locked, quite contrary to the
rules of the order. But, sure of his own influence and importance,
Rodin, who had obtained from the general permission to be rid for a
time of the inconvenient company of a socius, often took upon himself to
break through a number of the rules. A servant entered and delivered
a letter to Rodin. Before opening it the latter said to the man: "What
carriage is that which just arrived?"

"It comes from Rome, father," answered the servant, bowing.

"From Rome!" said Rodin, hastily; and in spite of himself, a vague
uneasiness was expressed in his countenance. But, still holding the
letter in his hands, he added: "Who comes in the carriage."

"A reverend father of our blessed Company."

Notwithstanding his ardent curiosity, for he knew that a reverend
father, travelling post, is always charged with some important mission,
Rodin asked no more questions on the subject, but said, as he pointed to
the paper in his hand: "Whence comes this letter?"

"From our house at St. Herem, father."

Rodin looked more attentively at the writing, and recognized the hand of
Father d'Aigrigny, who had been commissioned to attend M. Hardy in his
last moments. The letter ran as follows:

"I send a despatch to inform your reverence of a fact which is, perhaps,
more singular than important. After the funeral of M. Francis Hardy, the
coffin, which contained his remains, had been provisionally deposited in
a vault beneath our chapel, until it could be removed to the cemetery of
the neighboring town. This morning, when our people went down into
the vault, to make the necessary preparations for the removal of the
body--the coffin had disappeared.

"That is strange indeed," said Rodin with a start. Then, he continued to
read:

"All search has hitherto been vain, to discover the authors of the
sacrilegious deed. The chapel being, as you know, at a distance from the
house, they were