ting so much chlorate of potash?" he asked, taking
down the jar, and looking sharply at her.

The girl trembled.

"It is all right," she said. "Here is the money in the till."

"Of course," he said. "I did not expect you to give it away for
nothing. Who bought it?"

"An old man," replied the girl, trembling still, but the proprietor did
not notice that--he was counting the money, and found it right.

"I was wondering what he wanted with so much of it. If he comes in
again look sharply at him, and be able to describe him to me. It seems
suspicious." Why it seemed suspicious Lurine did not know, but she
passed an anxious time until she took the basket in her hand and went
to meet her lover at the corner of the Rue des Pyramides. His first
question was--

"Have you brought me the things?"

"Yes," she answered. "Will you take them here, now?"

"Not here, not here," he replied hurriedly, and then asked anxiously,
"Did anyone see you take them?"

"No, but the proprietor knows of the large package, for he counted the
money."

"What money?" asked Jean.

"Why, the money for the things. You didn't think I was going to steal
them, did you?"

The young man laughed, and drew her into a quiet corner of the Gardens
of the Tuileries.

"I will not have time to go with you to the Rue de Lille to-night," he
said.

"But you will come as usual to-morrow night?" she asked, anxiously.

"Certainly, certainly." he replied, as he rapidly concealed the
packages in his pockets.

The next night the girl waited patiently for her lover at the corner
where they were in the habit of meeting, but he did not come. She stood
under the glaring light of a lamp-post so that he would recognize her
at once. Many people accosted her as she stood there, but she answered
none, looking straight before her with clear honest eyes, and they
passed on after a moment's hesitation. At last she saw a man running
rapidly down the street, and as he passed a brilliantly-lighted window
she recognized Jean. He came quickly towards her.

"Here I am," she cried, running forward. She caught him by the arm,
saying, "Oh, Jean, what is the matter?"

He shook her rudely, and shouted at her--"Let me go, you fool!" But she
clung to him, until he raised his fist and struck her squarely in the
face. Lurine staggered against the wall, and Jean ran on. A stalwart
man who had spoken to Lurine a few moments before, and, not
understanding her silence, stood in a door