“No; we had to confide in some one. Besides, the two affairs, that of Madame de Mussidan and the Duke de Champdoce, ran so well together. They were the simultaneous emanations of my brain. I worked them up together, and together they must stand or fall.” “Then you are determined to go on?” “Yes; more determined than ever.” The doctor had been playing with his locket for some time, and the contact of the cold metal seemed to have affected his nerves; for it was in a trembling voice that he replied,-- “I vowed long ago that we should sink or swim together.” He paused, and then, with a melancholy smile upon his face, continued,--“I have no intention of breaking my oath, you see; but I repeat, that your road seems to be a most perilous one, and I will add that I consider you headstrong and self-opinionated; but for all that I will follow you, even though the path you have chosen leads to the grave. I have at this moment a something between my fingers that will save me from shame and disgrace--a little pill to be swallowed, a gasp, a little dizziness, and all is over.” Tantaine did not seem to care for the doctor’s explanation. “There, that will do,” said he. “If things come to the worst, you can use the contents of your locket as much as you like, but in the meantime leave it alone, and do not keep jingling it in that distracting manner. For people of our stamp a danger well known is a comparatively slight peril, for threats furnish us with means of defence. Woe, I say, woe to the man who crosses my path, for I will hold my hand from nothing!” He stopped for a little, opened every door, and assured himself that there were no eavesdroppers, and then, in a low whisper, he said to Hortebise, “Do you not see that there is but one obstacle to our success, and that is Andre? Remove him, and the whole of our machinery will work as smoothly as ever.” Hortebise winced, as if suffering from a sudden pain. “Do you mean----?” asked he. But Tantaine interrupted him with a low laugh, terrible to listen to. “And why not?” said he. “Is it not better to kill than to be killed?” Hortebise trembled from head to foot. He had no objection to extorting money by the basest threats, but he drew the line at murder. “And suppose we were found out?” muttered he. “Nonsense! How could we be discovered? Justice always looks for a motive; how, then could they bring it home to us? They could only find out that a young lady adored by De Breulh had thrown him over in order to marry Andre.” “Horrible!” murmured the doctor, much shocked. “I daresay that it is horrible, and I have no wish to proceed to extremities. I only wish to speak of it as a remote possibility, and one that we may be compelled to adopt. I hate violence just as much as you do, and trust that it may not be necessary.” Just then the door opened, and Paul entered, a letter in his hand. He seemed in excellent spirits, and shook hands with both his visitors.