before we set out for America, the rich New World, where alone is the carrière ouverte aux talents.'

La Suédoise made some mild reply, and sat with downcast eyes, looking as modest and pretty as a young bride. But she was internally in revolt against the picture of her future so contentedly drawn for her by d'Haguerty. What if he were going to marry her? The price was too heavy to pay.

'Come now, let us have some coffee ourselves!' she exclaimed, jumping up to interrupt the flow of sentiment.

'Warm it then, dear little woman, while I arrange these diamonds more conveniently.'

He put the packets on the table again and seemed lost in calculations. The medicine bottle with the narcotic in it stood on a side table, and the sight of it crystallised La Suédoise's vague design. She swept it into her hand in passing. In a few minutes she brought him a cup of coffee, and sat down by his side to drink her own. He was making notes in a pocket-book.

'Now,' he said, closing it, we will go to the Hôtel St. Julien and find the carriage. You will soon see the advantage of my having made you drive about with the blinds down. I get in old Bernstein, a tradesman. I get out a gentleman.'

La Suédoise feared she had been precipitate.

'Let me rest a little, mon ami; I have had so many emotions.' She went into the bedroom and lay down. The Count, impatient to be off, kept coming in to implore her to get ready to start. But no, she had the migraine, the most terrible migraine. D'Haguerty would have taken a short way with any other woman who had interpolated a migraine into his plans; but Anna was a sacred being. It shocked him that she should suffer. Her migraine was a catastrophe. Meantime La Suédoise kept anxiously waiting for the drug to take effect. It had been shorter work with Dillon. The Count stood silent by the bed, regarding her tragically. She raised herself, put her feet to the ground, held her head, and was making up her mind that this time it was of no use, the migraine might as well get better when he said:

6

Dame, it's odd! I slept very well last night, yet my head feels like lead. I could sleep a hundred years.'

'Lie down a little while I dress.'

'No, I will sleep in the carriage.' She fastened her clothes. put on her bonnet slowly. D'Haguerty leaned against the bed, half-sitting, and said nothing. His head drooped upon his breast.

She, moving round in the room, watched him from the corners of her eyes; but when his eyelids fell hers lifted, and she stood with a smile of triumph watching the tall bulk sway a little forward, then backward. But the Count was not yet beaten. By a mighty effort he pulled himself together, opened his eyes, and stood bolt upright. He opened his eyes upon that smile of La Suédoise, that poise as of a pouncing creature. It caught him like the cut of a lash, stung him back to his senses.

'Anna!' he cried in a voice muffled, but full of horror. It's not that? Mon Dieu, mon Dieu! Ungrateful, infamous!'

Speaking, he came uncertainly towards her, his great arm outstretched; she knew not whether in remonstrance or menace. She fled before him into the sitting-room, but before she could close the door upon him he had thrown his shoulder against it and staggered after her. His face was terrible in its look at once of stupor and of fierce determination; but for all her fear La Suédoise dared not scream. For she had the necklace at any rate, and she must get away with it quietly. But she was a coward of her nature, and although she got first to the door into the passage, which was locked, her trembling fingers had not been able to turn the key, when the Count, lurching across the room, throwing down a table one way and a chair another, was upon her. One big open hand shot out over her head and thumped against the door, holding it shut, the other descending weightedly on her shoulder, turned her about. So they stood face to face, the Count leaning heavily with his hand against the door, staring down from his great height at La Suédoise, inarticulate, with glazed eyes, but his lips parted in a menacing grimace over his clenched teeth. The grasp of his hand bruised her delicate white flesh; the look on his face terrified her with a vision of murder. In another moment she must have screamed, when a particularly loud and peremptory knocking sounded on the other side of the door. The Count heard it as one hears knocking in one's sleep. He allowed her to lead him away from the door, but, refusing to enter the bedroom, stumbled to the sofa and sat there, holding himself bolt upright by an effort. She picked up the table and chair he had thrown down, and approached the door again. Meantime the knocking was repeated, louder and yet more peremptory.

'Is M. Bernstein here ?

It was a man's voice, and a rough one.

'Wait a moment,' replied La Suédoise from within.

'I cannot wait. I am in a hurry. I want to see M. Bernstein.' La Suédoise went to the door and opened it a crack. 'M. Bernstein is very unwell,' she began; then broke off and backed into the room with a slight scream. The Count, making a last desperate effort to retain consciousness, looked round. The door was flung open, and four heavy-footed men tramped in.

Ah! So here are the gendarmes,' said the Count slowly, without apparent emotion.

'You are M. Bernstein?' asked the officer.

D'Haguerty stared at him stupidly and did not answer.

'Yes, yes, Monsieur, that is he, that is Bernstein,' interposed La Suédoise alertly.

'I have a warrant to arrest the man calling himself Bernstein.' 'The reason he does not answer, Monsieur,' said La Suédoise, is that he is ill-an apoplexy perhaps.'

'No matter. He is going straight to Paris. There are good doctors there. You are his daughter?'

'No, Monsieur.'

"You have passed as his daughter at any rate?'

'No, Monsieur.'

The officer took out a document, studied it, and La Suédoise alternately, and then :

'Come, Mademoiselle, it's not worth telling lies. You are at any rate the person meant in this paper: it describes you exactly.' 'That is easily explained. One of the conspirators was dressed as a woman to resemble me; in effect he resembled me wonderfully.' The officer's incredulity was manifest. He stepped up to her and put his hand on her neck.

'You have a necklace here under your dress. Let me see.' Reluctantly she showed a gleam of diamonds.

'Bernstein gave it me. I wear it so for safety.'

'Well, I have to send to Paris immediately Bernstein and a young person in company with him who passes as his daughter and wears a diamond necklace. Come, Mademoiselle, we have a carriage at the door of the English Club. We are in a hurry. If you are not the person in question the police in Paris will let you go, and Paris is not a bad place for a little demoiselle like you.'

'But I am not the person you want,' shrieked La Suédoise. 'Make the servants come.'

'There is only one servant here, and she does not understand a word of French.'

Where is Madame de Ferriet ? '

'She is not in the house. Come, Mademoiselle, it is plain you are the person we want. Let us have no more nonsense, but be off.' 'I protest. I demand to see the Governor.'

The Governor! Who do you think you are? What, Roget? You can't wake up this Bernstein?'

Charlesworth looked in. La Suédoise, pointing at him, screamed : 'There, Monsieur l'Officier, that young man is a confederate and a thief into the bargain. Take him with you instead of me.' All the gendarmes smiled. Charlesworth laughed.

'Come, Mademoiselle, come! We all know M. Charles.' 'He has stolen my diamonds! Turn out his pockets,' she screamed.

Charlesworth, still laughing, rapidly turned all his pockets inside out. Empty as usual, M. Rapin,' he said to the officer with a rueful gesture.

'Thief! rascal!' exclaimed La Suédoise. Tell the gendarmes who I really am.'

'I cannot tell them more than I know,' returned Charlesworth, 'but I think it is probable you are not old Bernstein's daughter.' The gendarmes smiled knowingly.

Charlesworth was leaning over d'Haguerty.

'You cannot wake this man, because he is drugged,' he said in a minute.

The officer of the gendarmes shrugged his shoulders.

Sapristi! he will be fine and heavy to carry. Put him into the big chair there, and bring him along, you others. I will take charge of the girl.'

Charlesworth helped them to move the Count's huge bulk, and did it with a kind of tenderness.

The labouring gendarmes carried him out untenderly, his head lower than his heels. Charlesworth watched them almost remorsefully, his hand across his mouth. La Suédoise followed in the officer's firm grasp, abusing Charlesworth shrilly, protesting ener getically against her seizure.

'You have not the right' and 'it is very unjust' were the last words that he caught from the passage.

'So that was it! Poor old Count,' he said as he thought the matter out. 'Poor old d'Haguerty! I wish they hadn't got him.'

(To be concluded.)

THE

CORNHILL MAGAZINE.

NOVEMBER 1905.

ON THE OXFORD CIRCUIT.

[On March 13, 1854, Sir Thomas Noon Talfourd, Justice of the Common Pleas, author of Ion,' the friend of Dickens and the biographer of Charles Lamb died while delivering his charge to the Grand Jury from the Bench at Stafford. -ED. CORNHILL.]

WHY is the sad county town, prim, staidest of old market-places, Roused from its lethargy thus by these peals, this insistent

carillon ;

'Jeanette et Jeanot' at the hour, and at intervals banging bobmajors?

Why fly gay flags from the tower of the gaol and the keep of the castle,

Bright 'gainst the grey sky behind the battlements dark of the donjon?

'Tis that the Judge is to come-the Red Judge-to hold the Assizes;

Liberty bringing to some-but to others surcease from life's labour

Hard labour-delight of the good-awarding the bad to chastise them.

He comes to attribute revenge-and, haply, with that reforma

tion

For ordered revenge of the Law holdeth balm for the hurt of the wronged one;

Yet causeth maleficents pain-yea, dolour impelling to virtue.

So shall the best remain good, while the worst become, possibly,

better;

VOL. XIX.-NO. 113, N.S.

87