ieur
Risler's room. But the window is wide open."

Sigismond, greatly surprised, went and knocked at his friend's door.

"Risler! Risler!"

He called in great anxiety:

"Risler, are you there? Are you asleep?"

There was no reply. He opened the door.

The room was cold. It was evident that the damp air had been blowing
in all night through the open window. At the first glance at the
bed, Sigismond thought: "He hasn't been in bed"--for the clothes were
undisturbed and the condition of the room, even in the most trivial
details, revealed an agitated vigil: the still smoking lamp, which he
had neglected to extinguish, the carafe, drained to the last drop by
the fever of sleeplessness; but the thing that filled the cashier with
dismay was to find the bureau drawer wide open in which he had carefully
bestowed the letter and package entrusted to him by his friend.

The letter was no longer there. The package lay on the table, open,
revealing a photograph of Sidonie at fifteen. With her high-necked
frock, her rebellious hair parted over the forehead, and the embarrassed
pose of an awkward girl, the little Chebe of the old days, Mademoiselle
Le Mire's apprentice, bore little resemblance to the Sidonie of to-day.
And that was the reason why Risler had kept that photograph, as a
souvenir, not of his wife, but of the "little one."

Sigismond was in great dismay.

"This is my fault," he said to himself. "I ought to have taken away the
keys. But who would have supposed that he was still thinking of her? He
had sworn so many times that that woman no longer existed for him."

At that moment Mademoiselle Planus entered the room with consternation
written on her face.

"Monsieur Risler has gone!" she exclaimed.

"Gone? Why, wasn't the garden-gate locked?"

"He must have climbed over the wall. You can see his footprints."

They looked at each other, terrified beyond measure.

"It was the letter!" thought Planus.

Evidently that letter from his wife must have made some extraordinary
revelation to Risler; and, in order not to disturb his hosts, he had
made his escape noiselessly through the window, like a burglar. Why?
With what aim in view?

"You will see, sister," said poor Planus, as he dressed with all haste,
"you will see that that hussy has played him still another trick." And
when his sister tried to encourage him, he recurred to his favorite
refrain:

"I haf no gonfidence!"

As soon as he was dressed, he da