s friend in the intervals
of eating,--an employment pursued with the hearty gusto of a hungry man.
But his friend does not seem to sympathize with the cheerful feelings
of his comrade; he is pale, and there is terror on his face; and you may
see that the journal in his hand trembles like a leaf.

In the gardens of the Tuileries some score or so of gossips group
together.

"And no news of the murderer?" asked one.

"No; but the man who had been friend to Robespierre must have made
secret enemies enough."

"Ce pauvre Dalibard! He was not mixed up with the Terrorists,
nevertheless."

"Ah, but the more deadly for that, perhaps; a sly man was Olivier
Dalibard!"

"What's the matter?" said an employee, lounging up to the group. "Are
you talking of Olivier Dalibard? It is but the other day he had Marsan's
appointment. He is now to have Pleyel's. I heard it two days ago; a
capital thing! Peste! il ira loin. We shall have him a senator soon."

"Speak for yourself," quoth a ci-devant abbe, with a laugh; "I should be
sorry to see him again soon, wherever he be."

"Plait-il? I don't understand you!"

"Don't you know that Olivier Dalibard is murdered, found stabbed,--in
his own house, too!"

"Ciel! Pray tell me all you know. His place, then, is vacant!"

"Why, it seems that Dalibard, who had been brought up to medicine, was
still fond of chemical experiments. He hired a room at the top of the
house for such scientific amusements. He was accustomed to spend part
of his nights there. They found him at morning bathed in his blood, with
three ghastly wounds in his side, and his fingers cut to the bone. He
had struggled hard with the knife that butchered him."

"In his own house!" said a lawyer. "Some servant or spendthrift heir."

"He has no heir but young Bellanger, who will be riche a millions, and
is now but a schoolboy at Lyons. No; it seems that the window was left
open, and that it communicates with the rooftops. There the murderer had
entered, and by that way escaped; for they found the leads of the gutter
dabbled with blood. The next house was uninhabited,--easy enough to get
in there, and lie perdu till night."

"Hum!" said the lawyer. "But the assassin could only have learned
Dalibard's habits from some one in the house. Was the deceased married?"

"Oh, yes,--to an Englishwoman."

"She had lovers, perhaps?"

"Pooh, lovers! The happiest couple ever known; you should have seen them
together! I dined there la