"Enter," a man's voice said. He was surprised, for in his visits to Madame Cormier he had never seen a man there. He crossed the hall and knocked at the dining-room door. This time it was Phillis who bid him come in. He opened the door and saw Phillis, in a gray blouse, seated before a large table placed by the window. She was painting some cards.

As usual, when he called, she looked at him with anxious curiosity, thinking of Florentin. "It is not of him that I wish to speak to you to-day," he said, without pronouncing any name, which was unnecessary. "It is of Mademoiselle Phillis " "Do you find her ill?" Madame Cormier said, who thought only of misfortune. "Not at all. It is of her and of myself that I wish to speak. Do not be uneasy.

This state of things lasted several months without a word having been exchanged between them; in due time they learned each other's names and professions. She was a professor of drawing, as he supposed, the daughter of an artist who had been dead several years, and was called Mademoiselle Phillis Cormier.

As usual, when he called, she looked at him with anxious curiosity, thinking of Florentin. "It is not of him that I wish to speak to you to-day," he said, without pronouncing any name, which was unnecessary. "It is of Mademoiselle Phillis " "Do you find her ill?" Madame Cormier said, who thought only of misfortune. "Not at all. It is of her and of myself that I wish to speak. Do not be uneasy.

"You see, Florentin," Madame Cormier interrupted, smiling at her son. But he shook his head. "However, the opinion of all has a value," Phillis cried. "Speak lower," Florentin said.

It was the express wagon. "See that they do not take what does not belong to us," Phillis said. "While they fill their wagon I will write in the parlor." At the end of an hour the wagon was ready. Madame Cormier entered the parlor to tell her daughter. "I have finished," Phillis said. Having placed her letter in an envelope, she laid it in full view on Saniel's desk. "Now let us go," she said.

He knew at this hour she would be alone, and as she had not been, assuredly, warned by her daughter that he intended to shave, the experiment would be presented in a way to give a result as exact as possible. In answer to his ring Madame Cormier opened the door, and he saluted her without being recognized; but as the hall was dark this was not of great significance.

It is there that I saw them yesterday morning when I went out, and I was petrified, red with shame, distracted, not knowing where to hide myself. 'Florentin Cormier, the assassin of the Rue Sainte-Anne. Is it not infamous that an innocent person should be thus dishonored? This was what I said to myself. Where did the paper get the photograph?

Then there were long silences that Madame Cormier interrupted by going to the kitchen to look after her dinner, that had been ready since two o'clock. Not knowing what to say or do in the presence of Saniel's sombre face and preoccupation, which she could not explain, she asked him if he had dined. "Not yet."

How is it certain that this tall man, with long hair and curled beard, is not Florentin Cormier, since these are his chief characteristics?