The story of the other murders was similar. In the case of the widow Hartmann, he had cleverly managed to leave his companions in the wine cellar for a quarter of an hour, which had sufficed him to run to the Tetzelhouse, commit the murder, pocket the gold coin which he had chanced to see in the afternoon, and run back again to the wine cellar, without his temporary absence having been remarked.

He had always taken gold only; notes, silver, and gems had had no attraction for him; but at the sight of the yellow dross' the fiend had taken possession of him.

After the murder of Abraham Goldberg he had sworn to himself a solemn oath that nothing should ever induce him again to be alone with man or woman. This oath Frege had unwittingly forced him to break, and the sight of gold had once again completely upset the balance of his mind.

He requested that his madlycherished collection should be sold, if possible entire. He had spent some eighty thousand thalers altogether in the purchase, and it would be cheap at that price.

The proceeds were to serve, in the first place, to make amplest restitution to the families of his unhappy victims. Ten thousand thalers were to be given to Eliezer Ischanderle, who had suffered so much. The residue was to be devoted to the establishment of an asylum for the insane.

He felt it would be hopeless for him to crave the forgiveness of his fellow men. His crimes had been too fearful for human pardon ....

A few brief minutes more, and he passed away to implore the infinite mercy of his Maker. His last words were: 'A rare and rich collection-rare and rich! Death instantaneous and painless! Painless-painless!'

M. D.

CHAPTER XXXVI.

WHEN that cry for help came, and Hugh threw himself into the shrubbery before him with the impetuosity and vigour of a bull, René felt a trembling, and it seemed as though her heart had bounded into her throat. It was not fear for Hugh, at the risk he ran by answering that appeal for help, that affected her, but a great gladness at this proof of his love for her; nor was it fear for him that filled her with anxiety to be beside him when Raffiolli desired him to avenge her, but a proud exultation in the knowledge that he would do her bidding. She made her way as speedily as she could to the entrance of the arbourhaving too great a regard for her tender flesh to follow in Hugh's steps-with the desire to see her cousin punish De Gaillefontaine. She had no doubt of his ability; for a woman believes no physical achievement impossible to the man she loves. She got to the entrance as De Gaillefontaine came floundering out.

Hugh turned to Raffiolli, assuring her that the Frenchman should be made to apologise, and placing her under René's protection, hastily stepped out upon the open space to see what further attention was required by De Gaillefontaine.

The arbour was upon the edge of a bank sloping to the river, and down this De Gaillefontaine rolled,

only saving himself from the water by digging his nails into the sod. The agile little man was on his feet in a minute, and his passion being roused, he sprang up the incline to Hugh, who was waiting for him, deviating from the straight line to meet him upon the level ground. The moon, shining just above the trees, and the artificial illumination were sufficient for the men to see each other with tolerable distinctness. De Gaillefontaine made for Hugh with his foot, but his antagonist had learnt the trick in the studios, and knowing what to expect, stepped aside, caught the foot, and threw monsieur upon his back.

The folly of opposing his own dapper body to this monster of bone and gristle, this barbarous English six-foot giant, made itself evident to De Gaillefontaine as he recovered the breath bumped out of his lungs by the fall.

'Perhaps you will like to murder me,' he said, with sarcasm.

'No; but I shall have to throw you in the river unless you promise to apologise to my cousin.'

De Gaillefontaine, rising to his feet, at these words looked with a new interest at his adversary, seeing for the first time whom he had to deal with.

Hugh had lost his hat, and thrown aside his cloak, in bursting through the arbour, and thus De Gaillefontaine failed to recognise him in that brief space preceding his forcible ejectment.

He folded his arms, and said, looking into Hugh's face,

'So then I have the honour of to address Mr. Hugh Biron. I thought it was one of those tall footmen that I kicked. Do you require that I should apologise to Miss Biron for having treated her cousin as a lackey?'

'You can mention that I put you on your back, if you wish; but I don't insist upon that. It is an apology to Miss Biron for your ill conduct to her that I require.'

'I have done nothing for which to offer an apology,' said De Gaillefontaine, telling the truth, and cursing René for the practical joke he believed her to have played in leading him to declare his passion, and then exposing him to the insult of this cousin, who doubtless had been waiting for the signal to seize him and treat him shamefully.

Whether you believe yourself innocent or not does not matter a straw to me. You must apologise to my cousin.'

'And if I refuse ?'

"Then I shall pitch you into that river as surely as you stand high and dry now.'

'You will give me two minutes to consider this quaint proposal ?'

'Five,' said Hugh, holding up his watch to the moonlight, as he turned towards the arbour. The place was deserted; looking along the path he saw the figures of René and Raffiolli in the distance. He returned to M. de Gaillefontaine, who had not yet determined his course of action.

A few hours before, De Gaillefontaine had resolved to find occasion for quarrelling with Hugh, to force him to an encounter with the sword, with a view to getting rid of one whose existence jeopardised his prosperity. But the interview with René (as he supposed

Raffiolli) materially altered the conditions which rendered the desperate measure necessary.

René might be seriously angry with him, he considered; she might have led him on to a declaration with a suspicion that his motive was unworthy, and the anger she expressed when he kissed her hand might truly have been genuine. In that case he had reason to suspect that no measure, however desperate, could save him from banishment. After all, his safest course was to get the money and bolt with Beatrice Raffiolli; and in that case it would be advisable to avoid manslaughter, which might be followed by his apprehension before he had time to escape, and lead to an immediate examination of Rene's pecuniary affairs, which would make his position doubly hazardous.

His revengeful evil nature made him desire that René should share his mortification and downfall; Hugh killed, her position would be assured; the estate hers by right. What if, under the pretext of apology, he should declare before all her guests that she was an impostor, and unlawfully possessed of this estate? Against this there was to be considered the probability of a backhander, a thump, or a punch from this brutal cousin. No, that would not do. It were better to run away with the money, and communicate from a safe distance anything he might wish to say affecting these Birons. how could he apologise to her, perhaps before those who believed him to be what he represented?

But

'Monsieur,' he asked, 'what are the terms of this apology?'

'Whilst you have been thinking, I have been thinking. As a stranger was present and knows of your offence, it will be necessary that you make your apology in the presence of Miss Biron's visitors, un

less she chooses to spare you that degradation.'

The picture suggested by these words to the mind of De Gaillefontaine sent the blood of shame over his face. He would not submit to degradation before Raffiolli and others. And yet that river! He did not doubt that Hugh would fulfil his threat.

'When am I to make this apology?' he asked, an idea flashing upon his mind.

'Before the company separates, and as soon as I learn from Miss Biron what words you shall say, and where you shall say them.'

'You will see that I cannot offer an apology with this shirt upon me.' 'You shall have time to change it.'

'Coffee will be served at halfpast six.'

'If the company has not separated, that time will do: it is now five minutes past two.'

'Then I will apologise. That is arranged.'

'Yes; all I have to do is to see that you obey.'

'Is that concluded ?'
'Yes.'

you.'

'Mon Dieu, it is all I wish! So you shall convince every one that what I tell them is a truth. You are a coward; you, with your great bones and your gristle, can without fear strike a petit like me; but you fear to place yourself on an equality, and fight me !'

'There is truth in what the little brute says,' thought Hugh, stroking his chin, as M. de Gaillefontaine continued:

'Perhaps you will tell those just and honest gentlemen that it is contrary to law to fight duels as your excuse. Oh, yes, it is contrary to law to risk your own life at six hours, but it is quite blameless to pitch me in the river, and risk my life at six and a half. How

you a petit? Would you undertake to throw me in the river then ?'

'Right again,' Hugh silently admitted; and he smiled at his small foe, with something of admiration for his spirited argument.

'Ah, you may laugh at me because you are great and strong, but it would be no laughing matter if we were equal. And so I tell you that you are a coward, a great coward; and I am ten thousand times more courageous, who do not fear you-big as you are! I, too, might decline to be pitched into the river. At this moment I might give you up to the policemans for battering me; and where would you be when the time arrived to pitch me into the waters?'

"Good, again!'

It is

'You cannot answer me. true no one can defend cowardice. And you boast of to be your cousin's champion! Why, her footman could do all that you do for her honour !'

'Hold your tongue !'

'I will not hold my tongues! I tell you you would beat a child for her, but you will not fight a man; you will not risk a thing for her sake. If she is insulted, all you will do is to pitch her offender into the water; and you dare not do that if a policemans is by. In that case you would threaten, perhaps -bah ! You are a fine one to carry a rapier by your side. It is enough to make the cavalier whose dress you wear rise from his tomb to know how you disgrace his

memories !'

'You have said enough. If you tell me where to meet, I will not disappoint you, although I suspect it will be to give you the advantage you deprecate in me. Where shall we meet ?'

'On the ground where you insulted me, monsieur-at six.'

'I shall be there,' said Hugh, and walked away with very much such feeling as a man has in stepping into the car of a balloon for a first ascent.

When M. de Gaillefontaine, alone in his chamber, looked at his watch, it was twenty minutes to three. There was ample time to make all arrangements. The most important thing of the moment was his personal appearance. He changed his trousers and shirt, and then, taking his rapier, posed himself before the glass, admiring the whiteness of his shirt and the admirable fit of it. complexion, his dark moustache and hair, were all excellently thrown up by the undress. He made a few passes before the mirror, and rehearsed the final smile as he

His

wiped his rapier with the lacebordered handkerchief from his bosom. Perfect!

Now for other business. He rang the bell, and instructed his man to have the brougham and a pair of horses harnessed and ready for instant departure by six o'clock, and the lodge-gate opened. The servant repeated the order and retired. M. de Gaillefontaine then emptied the contents of his desk into a small bag, added a flask of eau de vie, and a box of bonbons for madame. He placed these ready to his hand beside his long fur-lined Ulster and his Paris hat.

It was ten minutes past three when these arrangements were completed. There was no time to waste. Raffiolli was yet to be prepared for flight, and some few intimate friends to be apprised of the approaching duel. He felt certain of victory, and was not desirous of concealing his prowess. An exhibition of this kind was one to be talked about afterwards. He put on his felt hat, concealed the rapier under the long cloak drawn about him, and locking his chamber-door, descended to the garden.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

'THINGS are serious enough for a pipe,' thought Hugh, as he wandered along the path after leaving De Gaillefontaine. He lit up, and under the influence of tobacco his thoughts, which since accepting the challenge had been confusedly whirling, became still and coherent. In quiet contemplation he walked along, his hands behind him, his eye with an artist's instinct upon the signs of coming day. The faintest pink cloud spread in a thin line across the primrose sky to the east. Looking across the wide-spreading lawn on which clung a thin veil