inside the premises when he was away, and, though brought home
drunk that awful night, furiously ordered the Frenchman out, and might
have assaulted them had not Bridget lassoed him with a chloroformed
towel. That was the last he knew until another day. Lascelles,
Philippes, and she, Mrs. Dawson, had already drunk a bottle of champagne
when interrupted by Doyle's coming. Lascelles was tipsy, had snatched
his pistol and fired a shot to frighten Doyle, but had only enraged him,
and then he had to run for his cab. He was bundled in and Doyle disposed
of. It was only three blocks down to Beau Rivage, and thither Mike drove
them in all the storm. She did not know at the time of Waring's being in
the cab. In less than fifteen minutes Mike was back and called
excitedly for Bridget; had a hurried consultation with her; she seized a
waterproof and ran out with him, but darted back and took the bottle of
chloroform she had used on her husband, now lying limp and senseless on
a sofa below, and then she disappeared. When half an hour passed and
Lascelles failed to return with them, bringing certain papers of which
he'd been speaking to Philippes, the latter declared there must be
something wrong, and went out to reconnoitre despite the storm. He could
see nothing. It was after midnight when Mrs. Doyle came rushing in,
gasping, all out of breath "along of the storm," she said. She had been
down the levee with Mike to find a cushion and lap-robe he dropped and
couldn't afford to lose. They never could have found it at all "but for
ould Lascelles lending them a lantern." He wanted Mike to bring down two
bottles of champagne he'd left here, but it was storming so that he
would not venture again, and Lieutenant Waring, she said, was going to
spend the night with Lascelles at Beau Rivage: Mike couldn't drive any
farther down towards the barracks. Lascelles sent word to Philippes that
he'd bring up the papers first thing in the morning, if the storm
lulled, and Philippes went out indignant at all the time lost, but Mike
swore he'd not drive down again for a fortune. So the Frenchman got into
the cab and went up with him to town. The moment he was gone Mrs. Doyle
declared she was dead tired, used up, and drank huge goblets of the wine
until she reeled off to her room, leaving an apron behind. Then Mrs.
Dawson went to her own room, after putting out the lights, and when, two
days later, she heard the awful news of the murder, knowing that
in