are behaving shamefully. What would Jacques say, if he could see
us from his prison! Why should we be so sad? Is he not innocent?"

Her eyes shone with unusual brilliancy: her voice had a ring which moved
Manuel Folgat deeply.

"I can at least, in justice to myself," she went on saying, "assure you
that I have never doubted him for a moment. And how should I ever have
dared to doubt? The very night on which the fire broke out, Jacques
wrote me a letter of four pages, which he sent me by one of his tenants,
and which reached me at nine o'clock. I showed it to grandpapa. He read
it, and then he said I was a thousand times right, because a man who had
been meditating such a crime could never have written that letter."

"I said so, and I still think so," added M. de Chandore; "and every
sensible man will think so too; but"--

His granddaughter did not let him finish.

"It is evident therefore, that Jacques is the victim of an abominable
intrigue; and we must unravel it. We have cried enough: now let us act!"

Then, turning to the marchioness, she said,--

"And my dear mother, I sent for you, because we want you to help us in
this great work."

"And here I am," replied the old lady, "not less certain of my son's
innocence than you are."

Evidently M. de Chandore had been hoping for something more; for he
interrupted her, asking,--

"And the marquis?"

"My husband remained in Paris."

The old gentleman's face assumed a curious expression.

"Ah, that is just like him," he said. "Nothing can move him. His only
son is wickedly accused of a crime, arrested, thrown into prison. They
write to him; they hope he will come at once. By no means. Let his son
get out of trouble as he can. He has his _faiences_ to attend to. Oh, if
I had a son!"

"My husband," pleaded the marchioness, "thinks he can be more useful to
Jacques in Paris than here. There will be much to be done there."

"Have we not the railway?"

"Moreover," she went on, "he intrusted me to this gentleman." She
pointed out M. Folgat.

"M. Manuel Folgat, who has promised us the assistance of his experience,
his talents, and his devotion."

When thus formally introduced, M. Folgat bowed, and said,--

"I am all hope. But I think with Miss Chandore, that we must go to work
without losing a second. Before I can decide, however, upon what is to
be done, I must know all the facts."

"Unfortunately we know nothing," replied M. de Chandore,--"nothing,
excep