ctor out at once. But he was half drunk and after his
manner was hideously humorous.

'How do, ladies! How do, gentlemen!' was his loud-voiced salutation.
'Quite a professional gathering, clergy predominating. Lion and Lamb
too, ha! ha! which is the lamb, eh? ha! ha! very good! awfully sorry to
hear of your loss, Mrs. Slavin; did our best you know, can't help this
sort of thing.'

Before any one could move, Craig was at his side, and saying in a clear,
firm voice, 'One moment, doctor,' caught him by the arm and had him out
of the room before he knew it. Slavin, who had been crouching in his
chair with hands twitching and eyes glaring, rose and followed, still
crouching as he walked. I hurried after him, calling him back. Turning
at my voice, the doctor saw Slavin approaching. There was something so
terrifying in his swift noiseless crouching motion, that the doctor,
crying out in fear 'Keep him off,' fairly turned and fled. He was too
late. Like a tiger Slavin leaped upon him and without waiting to strike
had him by the throat with both hands, and bearing him to the ground,
worried him there as a dog might a cat.

Immediately Craig and I were upon him, but though we lifted him clear
off the ground we could not loosen that two-handed strangling grip. At
we were struggling there a light hand touched my shoulder. It was Father
Goulet.

'Please let him go, and stand away from us,' he said, waving us back.
We obeyed. He leaned over Slavin and spoke a few words to him. Slavin
started as if struck a heavy blow, looked up at the priest with fear in
his face, but still keeping his grip.

'Let him go,' said the priest. Slavin hesitated. 'Let him go! quick!'
said the priest again, and Slavin with a snarl let go his hold and stood
sullenly facing the priest.

Father Goulet regarded him steadily for some seconds and then asked--

'What would you do?' His voice was gentle enough, even sweet, but there
was something in it that chilled my marrow. 'What would you do?' he
repeated.

'He murdered my child,' growled Slavin.

'Ah! how?'

'He was drunk and poisoned him.'

'Ah! who gave him drink? Who made him a drunkard two years ago? Who has
wrecked his life?'

There was no answer, and the even-toned voice went relentlessly on--

'Who is the murderer of your child now?'

Slavin groaned and shuddered.

'Go!' and the voice grew stern. 'Repent of your sin and add not
another.'

Slavin turned his eyes upon the motionless f