tainted, the incomprehensible blindness of the count, the surly
provocations of her step-mother, the horrible attentions of Sir Thorn;
in fine, the whole abominable plot which had been formed, as she found
out too late, for the purpose of driving her to seek safety in flight,
and to give herself up to Maxime de Brevan.

Trembling with rage, livid, his eyes bloodshot, Daniel suddenly let go
Henrietta's hands, and exclaimed in a half-smothered voice,--

"Ah, Henrietta! your father deserved--Wretched old man! to abandon his
child to the mercy of such miserable wretches!"

And, when the poor girl looked at him imploringly, he replied,--

"Be it so! I will say nothing more of the count. He is your father, and
that is enough."

Then he added coldly,--

"But that M. Thomas Elgin, I swear by God he shall die by my hand; and
as to Sarah Brandon"--

He was interrupted by the old dealer, who tapped him lightly on the
shoulder, and said with an indescribable smile,--

"You shall not do that honor to the Hon. M. Elgin, M. Champcey. People
like him do not die by the sword of honest men."

In the meantime Henrietta had resumed her history, and spoke of her
surprise and amazement when she reached that bare room in Water Street,
with its scanty second-hand furniture.

"And yet, Henrietta," here broke in Daniel, "I had handed that man all
my money to be placed at your disposal in case of any accident."

"What!" exclaimed the old dealer, "you had"--

He did not finish, but looked at the young officer with an utterly
amazed air, as if he were an improbable phenomenon, never seen before.

Daniel shook his head sadly.

"Yes," he said, "I know it was an insane thing. But it was less insane
than to intrust my betrothed to his care. I believed in the friendship
of that man."

"And besides," remarked Mrs. Bertolle, "how could you suppose such
atrocious treachery? There are crimes which honest hearts never even
conceive."

Henrietta continued, describing her sensations when she found herself
for the first time in her life harassed by want, destitution, hunger.
But, when she came to the disgusting ill-treatment she received at the
hands of the concierge's wife, Daniel cried out,--

"Stop!"

And, fearfully excited, he asked her,--

"Did I hear right? Did you say the concierge of that house in Water
Street, and his wife, were called Chevassat?"

"Yes, why?"

"Because Maxime de Brevan's real name is Justin Chevassat."

Pa