should be remembered, and a fellow makes as much as he can.

When the cabby had gone off, still growling, although a couple of
louis had been placed in his hand, the doctor returned to his
patient. He involuntarily assumed his accustomed attitude, with
crossed arms, a gloomy expression of countenance, and his forehead
furrowed as if with thought and anxiety. But this time he was not
acting a part. In spite, or rather by reason of, the full
explanation that had been given him, he found something suspicious
and mysterious in the whole affair. A thousand vague and
undefinable suspicions crossed his mind. Was he in presence of a
crime? Certainly, evidently not. But what was the cause then of
the mystery and reticence he detected? Was he upon the track of
some lamentable family secret--one of those terrible scandals,
concealed for a long time, but which at last burst forth with
startling effect? The prospect of being mixed up in such an
affair caused him infinite pleasure. It would bring him into
notice; he would be mentioned in the papers; and his increased
practice would fill his hands with gold.

But what could he do to ingratiate himself with these people,
impose himself upon them if needs be? He reflected for some time,
and finally what he thought an excellent plan occurred to him. He
approached Mademoiselle Marguerite, who was weeping in an arm-
chair, and touched her gently on the shoulder. She sprang to her
feet at once. "One more question, mademoiselle," said he,
imparting as much solemnity to his tone as he could. "Do you know
what liquid it was that M. de Chalusse took this morning?"

"Alas! no, monsieur."