inute.
Gentlemen, this weapon was a pair of carpenter's compasses."

"A compass!" exclaimed several voices at once.

"A compass!" exclaimed the Baron, gazing fixedly at the artist. Then he
carried his hand to his pocket, and suddenly withdrew it, as he felt the
workman's compass there, where it had been ever since the scene upon the
rocks.

"An iron compass," repeated the artist, "about ten inches long, more or
less, the legs of it being closed."

"Will you explain yourself, Monsieur?" excitedly exclaimed the public
prosecutor, "for it really seems as if you had witnessed the crime. In
that case you will be called out as a witness for the defence. Justice is
impartial, gentlemen. Justice has not two pairs of scales."

"To the devil with justice! You must have come from Timbuctoo to use such
old-fashioned metaphors."

"Make your deposition, witness; I require you to make your deposition,"
said the magistrate, whose increasing drunkenness appeared as dignified
and solemn as the artist was noisy.

"I have nothing to state; I saw nothing."

Here the Baron drew a long breath, as if these words were a relief.

"But I saw something!" said Gerfaut to himself, as he gazed at the
Baron's face, upon which anxiety was depicted.

"I reason by hypothesis and supposition," continued the artist. "I had a
little altercation with Lambernier a few days ago, and, but for my good
poniard, he would have put an end to me as he did to this fellow to-day."

He then related his meeting with Lambernier, but the consideration due
Mademoiselle Gobillot's honor imposed numberless circumlocutions and
concealments which ended by making his story rather unintelligible to his
auditors, and in the midst of it his head became so muddled that he was
completely put out.

"Basta!" he exclaimed, in conclusion, as he dropped heavily into his
chair. "Not another word for the 'whole empire. Give me something to
drink! Notary, you are the only man here who has any regard for me. One
thing is certain about this matter--I am in ten louis by this rascal's
adventure."

These words struck the Baron forcibly, as they brought to his mind what
the carpenter had said to him when he gave him the letter.

"Ten louis!" said he, suddenly, looking at Marillac as if he wished to
look into his very heart.

"Two hundred francs, if you like it better. A genuine bargain. But we
have talked enough, 'mio caro'; you deceive yourselves if you think you
are going to m