steadily enough."

"Father, you must come with us to his lodgings," Minette exclaimed. "I
have something to say to him. I suppose he is up?"

"But it is time to be at the meeting Minette. What do you want to see
him for?"

"Never mind the meeting," she said, impatiently. "We shall be there
before it is done. It is more important that I should see Jean."

"Well, if it must be, it must," Dufaure grumbled, shrugging his
shoulders. "When you take a thing into your head I know it is of no use
talking."

Jean Diantre was sitting with two or three of his mates in his attic
over a small brazier of charcoal. They rose in surprise at the entrance
of Minette and her father, followed by the American. The girl, without
speaking, walked straight up to Jean.

"I knew you were a miserable," she said, bitterly, "a drunken, worthless
scamp, but until now I did not know you were a murderer. Yes, comrades,
this man with whom you sit and smoke is a miserable assassin. Yesterday
evening he tried to take the life of Arnold Dampierre here, whom you all
know as a friend of freedom and a hater of tyranny. This brave companion
of yours had not the courage to meet him face to face, but stole up
behind him in the dark, and in another moment would have slain the man
he was following, when the tables were turned. The man he had followed
was not Arnold Dampierre but another; and before this wretch could
strike with his knife, he knocked him down, stunned him, and left him
like a dog that he is on the pavement. No doubt he has told you the lie
that he told my father, that he fell while going upstairs drunk. It was
a blow of the fist that has marked him as you see. The man he had tried
to murder did not even care to give him in charge. He despised this cur
too much, and yet the fellow may think himself fortunate. Had it been
Monsieur Dampierre it would not have been a fist but a bullet through
his head that would have punished him. Now mark me, Jean Diantre," and
she moved a pace forward, so suddenly that the man started back, "you
are a known assassin and poltroon. If at any time harm befalls Monsieur
Dampierre I will stab you with my own hand. If you ever dare to speak to
me again I will hold you up to the scorn of the women of the quarter. As
it is, your comrades have heard how mean and cowardly a scoundrel you
are. You had best move from Montmartre at once, for when this is known
no honest man will give you his hand, no man who respects himsel