was all
owing to that man, that dreadful Florent. Now beautiful Lisa and the
beautiful Norman have sensibly made friends again. It was their duty to
do so for the sake of the peace and quietness of us all. Everything will
go on satisfactorily now, you'll find. Ah! there's poor Monsieur Quenu
laughing yonder!"

Quenu had again come on to the footway, and was joking with Madame
Taboureau's little servant. He seemed quite gay and skittish that
morning. He took hold of the little servant's hands, and squeezed her
fingers so tightly, in the exuberance of his spirits, that he made her
cry out. Lisa had the greatest trouble to get him to go back into the
kitchen. She was impatiently pacing about the shop, fearing lest Florent
should make his appearance; and she called to her husband to come away,
dreading a meeting between him and his brother.

"She's getting quite vexed," said Mademoiselle Saget. "Poor Monsieur
Quenu, you see, knows nothing at all about what's taking place. Just
look at him there, laughing like a child! Madame Taboureau, you know,
said that she should have nothing more to do with the Quenus if they
persisted in bringing themselves into discredit by keeping that Florent
with them."

"Well, now, I suppose, they will stick to the fortune," remarked Madame
Lecoeur.

"Oh, no, indeed, my dear. The other one has had his share already."

"Really? How do you know that?"

"Oh, it's clear enough, that is!" replied the old maid after a momentary
hesitation, but without giving any proof of her assertions. "He's had
even more than his share. The Quenus will be several thousand francs out
of pocket. Money flies, you know, when a man has such vices as he has. I
dare say you don't know that there was another woman mixed up in it all.
Yes, indeed, old Madame Verlaque, the wife of the former inspector; you
know the sallow-faced thing well enough."

The others protested that it surely wasn't possible. Why, Madame
Verlaque was positively hideous!

"What! do you think me a liar?" cried Mademoiselle Saget, with angry
indignation. "Why, her letters to him have been found, a whole pile of
letters, in which she asks for money, ten and twenty francs at a time.
There's no doubt at all about it. I'm quite certain in my own mind that
they killed the husband between them."

La Sarriette and Madame Lecoeur were convinced; but they were beginning
to get very impatient. They had been waiting on the footway for more
than an hour, a