together to the inspector of police, and arrange for to-morrow's
ceremony."

Armand handed me his passport, and I went to Rue Jean Jacques
Rousseau. There were two letters addressed to Duval. I took them
and returned. When I re-entered the room Armand was dressed and
ready to go out.

"Thanks," he said, taking the letters. "Yes," he added, after
glancing at the addresses, "they are from my father and sister.
They must have been quite at a loss to understand my silence."

He opened the letters, guessed at rather than read them, for each
was of four pages; and a moment after folded them up. "Come," he
said, "I will answer tomorrow."

We went to the police station, and Armand handed in the
permission signed by Marguerite's sister. He received in return a
letter to the keeper of the cemetery, and it was settled that the
disinterment was to take place next day, at ten o'clock, that I
should call for him an hour before, and that we should go to the
cemetery together.

I confess that I was curious to be present, and I did not sleep
all night. judging from the thoughts which filled my brain, it
must have been a long night for Armand. When I entered his room
at nine on the following morning he was frightfully pale, but
seemed calm. He smiled and held out his hand. His candles were
burned out; and before leaving he took a very heavy letter
addressed to his father, and no doubt containing an account of