uccess in this case; and he is afraid the
accused might escape or be carried off."

Mechinet was evidently in great perplexity, and scratched his ear. Then
he added,--

"How am I to go about to let M. de Boiscoran have your note? If he knew
beforehand, it would be easy. But he is unprepared. And then he is just
as suspicious as M. Galpin. He is always afraid lest they prepare him a
trap; and he is on the lookout. If I make him a sign, I fear he will
not understand me; and, if I make him a sign, will not M. Galpin see it?
That man is lynx-eyed."

"Are you never alone with M. de Boiscoran?"

"Never for an instant, madam. I only go in with the magistrate, and
I come out with him. You will say, perhaps, that in leaving, as I am
behind, I might drop the note cleverly. But, when we leave, the jailer
is there, and he has good eyes. I should have to dread, besides, M. de
Boiscoran's own suspicions. If he saw a letter coming to him in that
way, from me, he is quite capable of handing it at once to M. Galpin."

He paused, and after a moment's meditation he went on,--

"The safest way would probably be to win the confidence of M. Blangin,
the keeper of the jail, or of some prisoner, whose duty it is to wait on
M. de Boiscoran, and to watch him."

"Trumence!" exclaimed Dionysia.

The clerk's face expressed the most startled surprise. He said,--

"What! You know his name?"

"Yes, I do; for Blangin mentioned him to me; and the name struck me the
day when M. de Boiscoran's mother and I went to the jail, not knowing
what was meant by 'close confinement.'"

The clerk was disappointed.

"Ah!" he said, "now I understand M. Galpin's great trouble. He has, no
doubt, heard of your visit, and imagined that you wanted to rob him of
his prisoner."

He murmured some words, which Dionysia could not hear; and then, coming
to some decision, apparently, he said,--

"Well, never mind! I'll see what can be done. Write your letter, madam:
here are pens and ink."

The young girl made no reply, but sat down at Mechinet's table; but, at
the moment when she was putting pen to paper she asked,--

"Has M. de Boiscoran any books in his prison?"

"Yes, madam. At his request M. Galpin himself went and selected, in M.
Daubigeon's library, some books of travels and some of Cooper's novels
for him."

Dionysia uttered a cry of delight.

"O Jacques!" she said, "how glad I am you counted upon me!" and, without
noticing how utterly Mechinet se