This sinister old woman’s small, pale eyes twinkled with a tiger’s bloodthirsty greed. Her broad, flat nose, with nostrils expanded into oval cavities, breathed the fires of hell, and resembled the beak of some evil bird of prey. The spirit of intrigue lurked behind her low, cruel brow. Long hairs had grown from her wrinkled chin, betraying the masculine character of her schemes. Any one seeing that woman’s face would have said that artists had failed in their conceptions of Mephistopheles. “My dear sir,” she began, with a patronizing air, “I have long since given up active business of any kind. What I have come to you to do, I have undertaken, for the sake of my dear nephew, whom I love more than I could love a son of my own.--Now, the Head of the Police--to whom the President of the Council said a few words in his ear as regards yourself, in talking to Monsieur Chapuzot--thinks as the police ought not to appear in a matter of this description, you understand. They gave my nephew a free hand, but my nephew will have nothing to say to it, except as before the Council; he will not be seen in it.” “Then your nephew is--” “You have hit it, and I am rather proud of him,” said she, interrupting the lawyer, “for he is my pupil, and he soon could teach his teacher.--We have considered this case, and have come to our own conclusions. Will you hand over thirty thousand francs to have the whole thing taken off your hands? I will make a clean sweep of all, and you need not pay till the job is done.” “Do you know the persons concerned?” “No, my dear sir; I look for information from you. What we are told is, that a certain old idiot has fallen into the clutches of a widow. This widow, of nine-and-twenty, has played her cards so well, that she has forty thousand francs a year, of which she has robbed two fathers of families. She is now about to swallow down eighty thousand francs a year by marrying an old boy of sixty-one. She will thus ruin a respectable family, and hand over this vast fortune to the child of some lover by getting rid at once of the old husband.--That is the case as stated.” “Quite correct,” said Victorin. “My father-in-law, Monsieur Crevel--” “Formerly a perfumer, a mayor--yes, I live in his district under the name of Ma’ame Nourrisson,” said the woman. “The other person is Madame Marneffe.” “I do not know,” said Madame de Saint-Esteve. “But within three days I will be in a position to count her shifts.” “Can you hinder the marriage?” asked Victorin. “How far have they got?” “To the second time of asking.” “We must carry off the woman.--To-day is Sunday--there are but three days, for they will be married on Wednesday, no doubt; it is impossible.--But she may be killed--” Victorin Hulot started with an honest man’s horror at hearing these five words uttered in cold blood. “Murder?” said he. “And how could you do it?”