the black clothes, he hastily said, "Yes; that will do, Charles. Go and find Baptiste at once, and bring him here."

With an obsequious bow to the two gentlemen, the person addressed left the apartment, and the judge turned to greet his visitors a second time.

'Well, my dear Claude," eagerly inquired the mayor, after the gentlemen had seated themselves, "how does this mysterious case progress? I have been talking it over with monsieur here; but have failed to convince him that this woman had any connection with the affair."

"And why, if I may ask?" questioned the judge. "I assure you, monsieur, that we have made some very strange discoveries, thanks to the energy and sharpness of that fellow Guimand. I think even you, Leon, will be surprised when you hear what we have found out."

"Guimand?" inquired the mayor.

"Yes; the agent from the Prefecture in Paris; that was he who left the office just now. These fellows seem to have the nose of a hound for scenting out crime. "But why, may I ask, is monsieur so confident of the innocence of this suspected woman ?" inquired the judge, addressing himself to Aristide.

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"I think I could explain my reasons better after the examination," replied Vis. "Recollect, monsieur, I have not seen Madame Marrois. A single glance might, perhaps, induce me to change my mind entirely."

"In that case," said the judge, "I will summon the woman at once. Guillaume," he called out to the clerk who was writing at his desk, "introduce Madame Marrois."

Both Aristide and the mayor kept their eyes glued upon the door in anxious expectation. After a few moments it reopened, and the clerk returned, ushering in a woman whom he announced as Madame Marrois.

The newcomer was tall and thin, with a face which, although at one time it might have had some claims to good looks, was now worn and haggard with premature

age.

The complexion was sallow and dingy; the features, pinched and shrunken; the whole countenance exhibiting the strongest evidence of care and suffering. The only redeeming point to the face was a pair of large black eyes, which seemed the more bright from the dark circles which surrounded them.

She was plainly though neatly dressed in gray serge, and carried in her hand a reticule. Aristide's eyes were instantly riveted upon the gloved hands. They were small and slender.

The woman was evidently greatly agitated, and controlled her emotion with difficulty. She stood shifting her little bag from one hand to the other, her lips trembling nervously, and her dark eyes fixed in pitiful entreaty upon the three gentlemen.

"Will you be seated, madame," said Monsieur Duquesnay, pointing to a chair which the clerk had placed in front of the desk.

The trepidation which the woman evinced as she complied with the judge's command induced him to pause for a few moments, to allow her to regain her composure.

CHAPTER XI.

"Now, MADAME," said the judge, "you will be kind enough to answer the questions I am about to put to you;" and while speaking he made a private sign to his clerk, who prepared to take down the answers of the witness. "Your name, madame ?"

The woman moistened her dry lips, and with an effort managed, at length, to reply, in a low, husky voice: "Stéphanie Lacroix. That is to say-no, Monsieur le Juge-I should say Stéphanie Marrois."

You claim to be the widow of Pierre Marrois, who died here in Abois on the 28th of June ?" "Yes, monsieur."

"You have filed your claim to the joint property in Monsieur Marrois's estate?"

This time the woman replied simply with a bow.

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You may not be aware, madame, that during all the years Pierre Marrois lived here in Abois he always passed for a single man. This claim of yours is therefore a matter of great surprise to every one." He looked inquiringly at the witness, but receiving no answer, went on: "Your certificate of marriage shows that you and Pierre Marrois were married in Lyons, in '65. I must ask you to tell me the whole story of your connection with the man whom you now claim to have been your husband."

The poor woman appeared greatly disturbed by the close scrutiny of the three pair of eyes riveted upon her. Her hands moved nervously, and the pallid hue deepened upon her countenance. She made several efforts to speak, but it was some time before she could control her trembling lips sufficiently to make herself intelligible. "I was born in Lyons, m'sieur. My parents died when I was a little girl, and left me to the care of my aunt. She was a coiffeuse, and raised me to her business. Our little store prospered, and my aunt died in '64. She left me the shop and two thousand francs, which she had managed to save. I was young then, and giddy, and pleased with admiration. One day I noticed a man in front of my shop. I noticed him because he stood there for a very long time, and because-well—because— m'sieur, it seemed to me it was at myself he was looking. The next day he came again, and so on for many days. He was nice-looking, and I was not displeased with this attention. At length he ventured to enter the shop and speak to me. He said he was a stranger in Lyons; a mechanic, and traveling through to see the great manufactories. His name was Pierre Marrois. Well, m'sieur, I did not repulse him, and we became quite friendly. He had some money, and he was not miserly in spending it. We went to all the fêtes together; and, to make the story short, m'sieur, Pierre Marrois asked me to marry him, and I accepted. After our marriage everything went well for a short while. Pierre obtained employment in one of the factories of the city, and his earnings and what was produced by my shop enabled us to live very comfortably. This did not last long. I now discovered that my husband was a very different man from what I had thought him. Perhaps I was jealous by nature-I don't know; but I soon found occasion to reproach him for his attention to other women; and then, m'sieur, I made another discovery-that he was cruel and brutal; for, when I became justly angry at his neglect toward me, and accused him of it, he grew furious, and struck me. Well, m'sieur, this was the beginning, and things went on from worse to worse. Several months passed in this cat-and-dog life, and then I waked up one morning to find that my husband had deserted me. I did not seek to find him. No, m'sieur, he had abused me so cruelly, so abominably, that I was only too glad to be rid of him. Fortunately we had no children.

"I returned to my shop and my life as it had been before my marriage. Everybody knew my painful story, but I did not care, m'sieur, for now, at least, I was no longer beaten. Well, years passed by, my business prospered, and what was the best of all, I heard nothing of

my husband. I can tell you, m'sieur, that my only fear during all those years was that he would come back to me. I was getting to be an old woman, when one day comes a letter to me. I opened it, and conceive my surprise. It was from my husband. He informed me that he was living here in Abois, and desired to see me on a matter of importance. I was to come to this place as soon as possible. The letter contained some money for my journey. It was quite a time, m'sieur, before I could make up my mind what to do. You may believe I did not want to see my husband. But I was afraid that if I did not obey him he would come to Lyons and do me an injury. So at last I made up my mind. Well, m'sieur, I arrived here, and having found a lodging, I wrote a note to Monsieur Marrois, which I sent, as he had directed, to an address given me in his letter." The agitation of the woman, which had been noticeable throughout her testimony, at this point became far more marked. She trifled nervously with her little bag, her voice grew fainter and huskier as she went on, in an embarrassed and faltering manner, with her story. "I received an answer from my husband; he gave me a rendezvous, at which I was to meet him, and- -" The woman's excitement here became so powerful that she was unable to speak.

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The effort required to speak even those few words was plainly apparent. The judge looked grave and went on : Well, then, the note from Monsieur Marrois in answer to yours? the note giving you this rendezvous ?" He waited for some time, and receiving no reply, repeated his question a second, and even a third, time.

The nervous excitement of the woman was now almost pitiful. Her sallow complexion had changed to a dull, chalky hue. Her lips quivered convulsively, and a frightened look came into her dark eyes.

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Madame," said the judge, in a grave and even severe tone, "you are not, perhaps, aware of the mistake you are committing in not answering my questions. None but the guilty can desire concealment."

At this word "guilty," pronounced in an emphatic manner, the poor creature gave way entirely, and covering her face with her hand, burst into tears.

The judge waited for a moment, to allow her to regain her composure, and when her sobs grew fainter he went on with his questioning.

"Again, madame, I ask you, where is the note you received from Monsieur Marrois ?"

"Alas! m'sieur," she replied, in a low and almost inaudible voice" alas! m'sieur, it has been destroyed." "That is very strange, madame. But if the note is destroyed, you certainly will have no objection to tell us where was the place of rendezvous ?"

"Oh, m'sieur, m'sieur !" wailed the poor creature, "I cannot, I cannot! I am the most unfortunate woman in the world. But, on my word, m'sieur, I am not guilty of anything wrong. Indeed, I am not! Oh, you must believe me, m'sieur, you must believe me!" and wringing her hands excitedly, she began to sob and cry in a hysterical manner.

"Madame," said the judge, solemnly, "as I told you before, you are doing very wrong not to reply to my questions. You are doing even worse than wrong, you are imperiling your safety if you are really innocent. Your husband, Monsieur Marrois, was murdered; and justice is seeking for the assassin. This concealment, this want

of readiness to respond to my questions, can only give rise to suspicions calculated to do you great harm. I would advise you to think well before you decide to persevere in the dangerous course you have entered upon. In your present state of agitation it would be cruel to force you to a sudden decision by continuing this examination. I will therefore give you a half-hour in which to consider whether or not you will take my advice, and answer my questions."

Calling his clerk, Monsieur Duquesnay whispered a few words to the man, and then continued:

"There, madame, you will please to follow my clerk. He will show you to a room where you can be alone, and I trust that when you have considered this matter calmly you will adopt a different course.

Unable to reply from excessive emotion, Stéphanie Marrois, without a word, followed the clerk from the room. Scarcely had the door closed upon her retreating form when Leon Dantan turned to Vis, and eagerly demanded to know what he now thought of the affair.

"Just the same as before," Aristide replied, with even more than his usual sangfroid, his quiet, impassive manner contrasting strongly with the excitement evinced by the mayor. "Since I have seen this Madame Marrois I am only the more strengthened in my belief that she had no complicity whatever in her husband's murder.”

"But this woman's alarm, nay, almost terror; her refusal to answer Duquesnay's questions, to produce that note, or mention the place of rendezvous at which she met her husband ?"

"All serve to strengthen my belief in her innocence." "But suppose, monsieur," broke in the judge, "that this note named as a place of rendezvous the public garden on the night of the fête?"

"Even that would not make me change my mind. I will even admit to you that I think it very probable that this woman may have gone to that fête. But what then? Does that prove her guilty of the murder? Remember that there were also hundreds of other women at the same place."

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"But why should this woman be so much alarmed?" exclaimed the mayor. Again I ask, why should this woman be so much alarmed if she is really innocent ?" "To me," answered Vis, "that is the strongest point in her favor. You look surprised, but to me it is very simple. Everything in connection with this crime indicated that it was coolly and deliberately planned, and boldly carried into execution. The woman capable of planning and executing this deed is a woman far above Madame Marrois intellectually. If justice ever finds her, she will be found ready, and prepared with a full and complete defense. If Duquesnay has to examine that woman, he will have no tears or alarms to fear, no evasions or concealments, which only serve to arouse suspicions. Oh, no, that woman will have a clear and straightforward story. She has not only planned the murder, but also the defense. At least," said the young man, relapsing into his calm, impassive manner, as if wearied by his energetic defense, "at least that is my idea."

"But what earthly motive could any other woman have?" demanded Leon Dantan.

"That's what bothers me. Yes, yes; that is the only thing that confuses me. The cause! What could be the

cause ?"

The young man spoke in a meditative manner, more as if to himself than to his companions.

"It seems to me, monsieur," cried the judge, with a slight expression of astonishment-it seems to me that