aped hysteria.
"Straighten Rogers out and let him lie there," I gasped, and sat
dizzily down upon the floor. But I dared not look at Hornblower. I
felt that another glance at his dazed countenance would send me off
again.

Madame, meanwhile, had dashed some water into the face of the
unconscious Julie--much to the detriment of her complexion!--watched
her a moment, then stood erect and lowered her veil.

"She will soon be all right again," she said; and, truly enough, at
the end of a few seconds, the girl opened her eyes and looked dazedly
about her. Then a violent trembling seized her.

"What is it, Julie?" asked her mistress, taking her hand. "You knew
this man?"

A hoarse sob was the only answer.

"You must tell me," went on madame, quietly but firmly. "Perhaps a
crime has been committed. You must tell me everything. You may rely
upon the discretion of these gentlemen. You knew this man?"

The girl nodded, and closed her eyes; but the hot tears brimmed from
them and ran down over her cheeks.

"In Paris?"

The girl nodded again.

"He was your lover?"

A third nod, and a fresh flood of tears.

"I remember, now," said madame, suddenly. "I saw him with her once.
What was he doing in this house?" she went on, more sternly. "Tell
us!"

"Madame will never forgive me!" sobbed the girl, and I began to think
that she was more concerned for herself than for her lover. The same
thought occurred to her mistress too, no doubt, for her voice
hardened.

"Try me," she said. "Understand well, you must tell--if not here,
then before an officer of the police."

"Oh, no, no!" screamed Julie, sitting suddenly erect. "Never that! I
could not bear that! Madame would not be so cruel!"

"Then tell us now!" said the veiled lady, inexorably.

"Very well, madame!" cried the girl, dabbing at her eyes with her
handkerchief, and speaking in a mixture of French and English which I
shall not attempt to transcribe. "I will tell; I will tell
everything. After all, I was not to blame. It was that creature. I
did not love him--but I feared him. He possessed a power over me. He
could make me do anything. He even beat me! And still I went back to
him!"

"What was his name?" asked the veiled lady.

"Georges Drouet--he lived in the Rue de la Huchette, just off the Rue
Saint Jacques--on the top floor, under the gutters. He was bad--bad;
--he lived off women. I met him six months ago. He knew how to
fascinate one; I thought he loved