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Morin had done with Madame Tibault's money, he feared the tongue of slander would not be stilled. Sometimes in fact, very often in affairs of the kind there was er as the saying goes er a lady in the case. In absolute confidence, now if perhaps Sister Félicité's large eyes regarded him solemnly. "There was one woman," she said, slowly, "to whom he bowed to whom he gave his heart."

Was it so wild a surmise that the religious fanatic had offered up his wealth or, rather, Madame Tibault's in the shape of a material symbol of his consuming devotion? Stranger things have been done in the name of worship. Was it not possible that the lost thousands were molded into that lustrous image?

You might's well, M'sieur Dumars, go try find those money in those statue of Virgin Mary that M'sieur Morin present at those p'tite soeurs, as try find one femme." At Madame Tibault's last words, Robbins started slightly and cast a keen, sidelong glance at Dumars. The Creole sat, unmoved, dreamily watching the spirals of his cigarette smoke.

"Well, what next? Churchy law fem?" "Absinthe," said Dumars. With the history of the missing money thus partially related, some conjecture may be formed of the sudden idea that Madame Tibault's words seemed to have suggested to Robbins's brain.

It was then nine o'clock in the morning and, a few minutes later, the two friends separated, going different ways to their day's duties. And now follows the brief story of Madame Tibault's vanished thousands: New Orleans will readily recall to mind the circumstances attendant upon the death of Mr. Gaspard Morin, in that city. Mr.