rms were pinioned. The two brothers crossed the road from a
dark corner, and identified me with a single gesture. The Marquis took
from his pocket the letter I had written, showed it me, burnt it in the
light of a lantern that was held, and extinguished the ashes with his
foot. Not a word was spoken. I was brought here, I was brought to my
living grave.

"If it had pleased God to put it in the hard heart of either of the
brothers, in all these frightful years, to grant me any tidings of my
dearest wife--so much as to let me know by a word whether alive or
dead--I might have thought that He had not quite abandoned them. But,
now I believe that the mark of the red cross is fatal to them, and that
they have no part in His mercies. And them and their descendants, to
the last of their race, I, Alexandre Manette, unhappy prisoner, do this
last night of the year 1767, in my unbearable agony, denounce to the
times when all these things shall be answered for. I denounce them to
Heaven and to earth."

THE CALDRON OF OIL

By WILKIE COLLINS

About one French league distant from the city of Toulouse there is a
village called Croix-Daurade. In the military history of England, this
place is associated with a famous charge of the Eighteenth Hussars,
which united two separated columns of the British army on the day
before the Duke of Wellington fought the battle of Toulouse. In the
criminal history of France, the village is memorable as the scene of a
daring crime, which was discovered and punished under circumstances
sufficiently remarkable to merit preservation in the form of a plain
narrative.

I. THE PERSONS OF THE DRAMA

In the year seventeen hundred, the resident priest of the village of
Croix-Daurade was Monsieur Pierre-Celestin Chaubard. He was a man of
no extraordinary energy or capacity, simple in his habits, and sociable
in his disposition. His character was irreproachable; he was strictly
conscientious in the performance of his duties; and he was universally
respected and beloved by all his parishioners.

Among the members of his flock there was a family named Siadoux. The
head of the household, Saturnin Siadoux, had been long established in
business at Croix-Daurade as an oil manufacturer. At the period of the
events now to be narrated, he had attained the age of sixty, and was a
widower. His family consisted of five children--three young men, who
helped him in the business, and two daughter