"I don't know," said the attendant, doubtfully. "What would monsieur like?" "Anything you can find. I would prefer a story." "I will try, monsieur." The next time Francois made his appearance he held in his hand a tattered edition of a popular novel. "Will that do?" he asked. Ben had never heard of the book, but on opening its pages it looked attractive, and he answered: "Yes, Francois, I am much obliged to you." He thought it politic, remembering that he might need other favors, to put a franc piece into the hand of the friendly attendant. Francois brightened up. His wages were so small that these little gratuities were very welcome. "Would monsieur like something else?" he inquired. "There is one thing I would like very much, Francois," answered Ben. "What is that, monsieur?" "To get out of this place." "But monsieur is insane." "I am no more insane than you are. Do I look insane?" "No; but one cannot always tell." "I would give a hundred francs to any one who would get me out of this," said Ben, not, however, expecting to produce much impression on the mind of his auditor. "A hundred francs!" repeated Francois, his eyes sparkling. But in a moment he looked sober. "It would not do. I should be discharged," he said. "Think it over, Francois," said Ben. The attendant did not answer, but the suggestion had borne fruit. It may be asked how Ben had so much money. It may be explained that he was about to send a remittance home, having received a payment from Major Grafton, but his unexpected arrival at the refuge had prevented him. He had with him two hundred francs, or about forty dollars in gold. Something happened on the third day which worked favorably for Ben's hopes of securing the active assistance of Francois. About dusk a boy appeared at the gate of the asylum, and asked to see Francois. When the two were brought together, he said: "I came from your wife. She wishes you to come home. The child--little Marie--is very sick." Poor Francois was much disturbed. In a little cottage five miles away lived his wife and his only child, Marie. The poor fellow was deeply attached to his child, for it must be remembered that the poor and simple-minded are quite as apt to have as strong affections as the richer and more favored. "Is she very bad, Jean?" he asked, quite pale. "Yes," answered Jean. "I think she is out of her head. She keeps moaning. Her poor mother is very much frightened." "I will ask if I can come," said Francois, and he straightway sought out the doctor. "I would like to speak to you, M. Bourdon," he said. "Speak quick, then, for I am busy," said the doctor, gruffly, for something had happened to disturb him. "Jean Gault has just told me that my little Marie is very sick, and my wife wants me to come home. If I could go now, I would come back in the morning." "Well, you can't go," said the doctor, harshly.