been amusing yourself by raising my hopes, to dash them--"

"Enough!" interrupted M. Verduret harshly; "you are too green to
understand anything, my friend. If you are incapable of helping
yourself, at least have sense enough to refrain from importuning
those who are working for you. Do you not think you have already done
sufficient mischief?"

Having administered this rebuke, he turned to Gypsy, and said in softer
tones:

"Go on, my child: what have you discovered?"

"Nothing positive, monsieur; but enough to make me nervous, and fearful
of impending danger. I am not certain, but suspect from appearances,
that some dreadful catastrophe is about to happen. It may only be a
presentiment. I cannot get any information from Mme. Fauvel; she refuses
to answer any hints, and moves about like a ghost, never opening her
lips. She seems to be afraid of her niece, and to be trying to conceal
something from her."

"What about M. Fauvel?"

"I was just about to tell you, monsieur. Some fearful misfortune has
happened to him, you may depend upon it. He wanders about as if he had
lost his mind. Something certainly occurred yesterday; his voice even
is changed. He is so harsh and irritable that mademoiselle and M. Lucien
were wondering what could be the matter with him. He seems to be on the
eve of giving way to a burst of anger; and there is a wild, strange look
about his eyes, especially when he looks at madame. Yesterday evening,
when M. de Clameran was announced, he jumped up, and hurried out of the
room, saying that he had some work to do in his study."

A triumphant exclamation from M. Verduret interrupted Mme. Gypsy. He was
radiant.

"Hein!" he said to Prosper, forgetting his bad humor of a few minutes
before; "Hein! What did I tell you?"

"He has evidently----"

"Been afraid to give way to his first impulse; of course he has. He is
now seeking for proofs of your assertions. He must have them by this
time. Did the ladies go out yesterday?"

"Yes, a part of the day."

"What became of M. Fauvel?"

"The ladies took me with them; we left M. Fauvel at home."

"Not a doubt of it!" cried the fat man; "he looked for proofs, and found
them, too! Your letter told him exactly where to go. Ah, Prosper, that
unfortunate letter gives more trouble than everything else together."

These words seemed to throw a sudden light on Mme. Gypsy's mind.

"I understand it now!" she exclaimed. "M. Fauvel knows everything."

"That is