ific duel, like that between Orfila and Raspail, the
provincial and Parisian chemists.

"If Tremorel has the face to deny his part in Sauvresy's murder,"
said he, "we shall have a superb trial of it."

This word "trial" put an end to M. Plantat's long hesitation.

"We mustn't have any trial," cried he.

The old man's violence, from one who was usually so calm and
self-possessed, seemed to amaze M. Lecoq.

"Ah ha," thought he, "I'm going to know all." He added aloud:

"What, no trial?"

M. Plantat had turned whiter than a sheet; he was trembling, and
his voice was hoarse, as if broken by sobs.

"I would give my fortune," resumed he "to avoid a trial--every
centime of it, though it doesn't amount to much. But how can we
secure this wretch Tremorel from a conviction? What subterfuge
shall we invent? You alone, my friend, can advise me in the
frightful extremity to which you see me reduced, and aid me to
accomplish what I wish. If there is any way in the world, you
will find it and save me--"

"But, my--"

"Pardon--hear me, and you will comprehend me. I am going to be frank
with you, as I would be with myself; and you will see the reason of
my hesitation, my silence, in short, of all my conduct since the
discovery of the crime."

"I am listening."

"It's a sad history, Lecoq. I had reached an age at which a man's
career is, as they say, finished, when I suddenly lost my wife and
my two sons, my whole joy, my whole hope in this world. I found
myself alone in life, more lost than the shipwrecked man in the
midst of the sea, without a plank to sustain me. I was a soulless
body, when chance brought me to settle down at Orcival. There I
saw Laurence; she was just fifteen, and never lived there a
creature who united in herself so much intelligence, grace,
innocence, and beauty. Courtois became my friend, and soon Laurence
was like a daughter to me. I doubtless loved her then, but I did
not confess it to myself, for I did not read my heart clearly. She
was so young, and I had gray hairs! I persuaded myself that my
love for her was like that of a father, and it was as a father that
she cherished me. Ah, I passed many a delicious hour listening to
her gentle prattle and her innocent confidences; I was happy when
I saw her skipping about in my garden, picking the roses I had
reared for her, and laying waste my parterres; and I said to
myself that existence is a precious gift from God. My dream then
was to follow her