the contrary," mildly pursued Hanger, sipping his grog, and nicely
balancing it with sugar to his taste--"on the contrary, my good sir,
she says he is a brave fellow--what she calls a _brave garcon_."

"Doesn't know him then, Mounseer Glendore! I wonder how many disguises
he has worn in his life--how many women he has trapped and ruined! Ask
her how long he has been here?"

The landlady answered--"Two years about the middle of next month."

"And he has never left this since?" Sharp went on, mixing himself by
this time a second glass of brandy-and-water.

The landlady had never been a day without seeing him. He came to play
his game of dominoes in the evening frequently. The dominoes exasperated
the farmer. He would as soon see a man with crochet needles.

"D--n him!" Sharp shouted; "just like him."

I now ventured to interfere. Reuben Sharp was becoming violent with
passion inflamed by brandy. The landlady was certain poor Monsieur
Glendore would never rise from his bed again. I said to
Sharp--"Whatever the wrong may be this man has done you, Mr. Sharp, pray
remember he is dying. He is passing beyond your judgment."

"Is he? Passing from my grip, is he? No--no--Herbert Daker."

Sharp had sprung from his chair, and was shaking his fist in the air.

"Daker! Herbert Daker!" I seized Reuben Sharp by the shoulder, and shook
him violently. "What do you know about Herbert Daker?"

Sharp turned upon me a face shattered with rage, and hissed at me. "What
do I know about him? What do _you_ about him? Are you his friend?"

"I am not: never will, nor can be," was my reply. Sharp wrung my hand
till it felt bloodless. "Herbert Daker is Matthew Glendore--Mounseer
Glendore. When did you meet him?"

"On the Boulogne steamer, about three years ago, when he was crossing
with his wife."

"Then!" Sharp exclaimed, and again he took a draught of
brandy-and-water.

At this moment Hanger, who had been talking with the landlady, joined
us, and whispered--"Be calm, gentlemen; this is a time for calmness.
Glendore is at hand--in a little cottage on Monsieur Guibert's works.
Madame says if we wish to see him alive, we had better lose no time. The
clergyman from Boulogne arrived about an hour ago, and is with him now.
His wife!----"

"His wife!" Sharp was now a pitiable spectacle. He finished his glass,
and caught Hanger by the collar of his coat--staring into his face to
get at all the truth. "Glendore's wife!"

Hanger was as coo