ad of sleeping in my regular
bedroom, I have locked myself up in this room. I have given my work as a
pretext; a quantity of writing which keeps me up very late and for which
I need my son's assistance."

"Does he sleep here, then?"

"He sleeps above us, in a little room which I have had arranged for him.
The only access to it is by this inner staircase."

"Is he there now?"

"Yes, he's asleep."

"How old is he?"

"Sixteen."

"But the fact that you have changed your room shows that you feared some
one would attack you. Whom had you in mind? An enemy living in the house?
One of your servants? Or people from the outside? In that case, how could
they get in? The whole question lies in that."

"To-morrow, to-morrow," replied Fauville, obstinately. "I will explain
everything to-morrow--"

"Why not to-night?" Perenna persisted.

"Because I want proofs, I tell you; because the mere fact of my talking
may have terrible consequences--and I am frightened; yes, I'm
frightened--"

He was trembling, in fact, and looked so wretched and terrified that Don
Luis insisted no longer.

"Very well," he said, "I will only ask your permission, for my comrade
and myself, to spend the night where we can hear you if you call."

"As you please, Monsieur. Perhaps, after all, that will be best."

At that moment one of the servants knocked and came in to say that his
mistress wished to see the master before she went out. Madame Fauville
entered almost immediately. She bowed pleasantly as Perenna and Mazeroux
rose from their chairs.

She was a woman between thirty and thirty-five, a woman of a bright and
smiling beauty, which she owed to her blue eyes, to her wavy hair, to all
the charm of her rather vapid but amiable and very pretty face. She wore
a long, figured-silk cloak over an evening dress that showed her fine
shoulders.

Her husband said, in surprise

"Are you going out to-night?"

"You forget," she said. "The Auverards offered me a seat in their box at
the opera; and you yourself asked me to look in at Mme. d'Ersingen's
party afterward--"

"So I did, so I did," he said. "It escaped my memory; I am working so
hard."

She finished buttoning her gloves and asked:

"Won't you come and fetch me at Mme. d'Ersingen's?"

"What for?"

"They would like it."

"But I shouldn't. Besides, I don't feel well enough."

"Then I'll make your apologies for you."

"Yes, do."

She drew her cloak around her with a graceful ge