ext budget of news was one of
decisive gravity.

"I don't want to alarm you, Madame Quenu," she said, "but matters are
really looking very serious. Upon my word, I'm quite alarmed. You must
on no account repeat what I am going to confide to you. They would
murder me if they knew I had told you."

Then, when Lisa had sworn to say nothing that might compromise her, she
told her about the red material.

"I can't think what it can be. There was a great heap of it. It looked
just like rags soaked in blood. Logre, the hunchback, you know, put one
of the pieces over his shoulder. He looked like a headsman. You may be
sure this is some fresh trickery or other."

Lisa made no reply, but seemed deep in thought whilst with lowered eyes,
she handled a fork and mechanically arranged some piece of salt pork on
a dish.

"If I were you," resumed Mademoiselle Saget softly, "I shouldn't be easy
in mind; I should want to know the meaning of it all. Why shouldn't you
go upstairs and examine your brother-in-law's bedroom?"

At this Lisa gave a slight start, let the fork drop, and glanced
uneasily at the old maid, believing that she had discovered her
intentions. But the other continued: "You would certainly be justified
in doing so. There's no knowing into what danger your brother-in-law may
lead you, if you don't put a check on him. They were talking about you
yesterday at Madame Taboureau's. Ah! you have a most devoted friend in
her. Madame Taboureau said that you were much too easy-going, and that
if she were you she would have put an end to all this long ago."

"Madame Taboureau said that?" murmured Lisa thoughtfully.

"Yes, indeed she did; and Madame Taboureau is a woman whose advice is
worth listening to. Try to find out the meaning of all those red bands;
and if you do, you'll tell me, won't you?"

Lisa, however, was no longer listening to her. She was gazing
abstractedly at the edible snails and Gervais cheeses between the
festoons of sausages in the window. She seemed absorbed in a mental
conflict, which brought two little furrows to her brow. The old maid,
however, poked her nose over the dishes on the counter.

"Ah, some slices of saveloy!" she muttered, as though she were
speaking to herself. "They'll get very dry cut up like that. And that
black-pudding's broken, I see--a fork's been stuck into it, I expect. It
might be taken away--it's soiling the dish."

Lisa, still absent-minded, gave her the black-pudding and s