said the physician, "you need not be afraid of me."

"Well, it might possibly be, that, after the countess had left M. de
Boiscoran, Fate might have stepped in. Jacques has told us how the
letters which he was burning had suddenly blazed up, and with such
violence that he was frightened. Who can tell whether some burning
fragments may not have set a straw-rick on fire? You can judge yourself.
On the point of leaving the place, M. de Boiscoran sees this beginning
of a fire. He hastens to put it out. His efforts are unsuccessful.
The fire increases step by step: it lights up the whole front of the
chateau. At that moment Count Claudieuse comes out. Jacques thinks he
has been watched and detected; he sees his marriage broken off, his life
ruined, his happiness destroyed; he loses his head, aims, fires, and
flees instantly. And thus you explain his missing the count, and also
this fact which seemed to preclude the idea of premeditated murder, that
the gun was loaded with small-shot."

"Great God!" cried the doctor.

"What, what have I said?"

"Take care never to repeat that! The suggestion you make is so fearfully
plausible, that, if it becomes known, no one will ever believe you when
you tell the real truth."

"The truth? Then you think I am mistaken?"

"Most assuredly."

Then fixing his spectacles on his nose, Dr. Seignebos added,--

"I never could admit that the countess should have fired at her husband.
I now see that I was right. She has not committed the crime directly;
but she has done it indirectly."

"Oh!"

"She would not be the first woman who has done so. What I imagine is
this: the countess had made up her mind, and arranged her plan, before
meeting Jacques. The murderer was already at his post. If she had
succeeded in winning Jacques back, her accomplice would have put away
his gun, and quietly gone to bed. As she could not induce Jacques to
give up his marriage, she made a sign, and the fire was lighted, and the
count was shot."

The young advocate did not seem to be fully convinced.

"In that case, there would have been premeditation," he objected; "and
how, then, came the gun to be loaded with small-shot?"

"The accomplice had not sense enough to know better."

Although he saw very well the doctor's drift, M. Folgat started up,--

"What?" he said, "always Cocoleu?"

Dr. Seignebos tapped his forehead with the end of his finger, and
replied,--

"When an idea has once made its way in ther