"Well, those dogs are the ghosts of Kerfol. At least, the
peasants say there's one day in the year when a lot of dogs
appear there; and that day the keeper and his daughter go off to
Morlaix and get drunk. The women in Brittany drink dreadfully."
She stooped to match a silk; then she lifted her charming
inquisitive Parisian face: "Did you REALLY see a lot of dogs?
There isn't one at Kerfol," she said.



II


Lanrivain, the next day, hunted out a shabby calf volume from the
back of an upper shelf of his library.

"Yes--here it is. What does it call itself? A History of the
Assizes of the Duchy of Brittany. Quimper, 1702. The book was
written about a hundred years later than the Kerfol affair; but I
believe the account is transcribed pretty literally from the
judicial records. Anyhow, it's queer reading. And there's a
Herve de Lanrivain mixed up in it--not exactly MY style, as
you'll see. But then he's only a collateral. Here, take the
book up to bed with you. I don't exactly remember the details;
but after you've read it I'll bet anything you'll leave your
light burning all night!"

I left my light burning all night, as he had predicted; but it
was chiefly because, till near dawn, I was absorbed in my