The servant retired and Guinaud returned to his seat, leaving Marson still standing by the fireplace. Now, however, he looked faint and ill, clinging to the mantelpiece for support. At length with an effort he pulled himself together, and staggered rather than walked to his seat. "What are your proofs?" he asked Guinaud, in a harsh whisper. Monsieur Judas, with the same stereotyped smile on his face, took some papers out of his breast coat-pocket, and, still retaining his hold of them, spread them out before Marson. A single look was sufficient. "My God!" cried Marson, with sudden terror; "I--I--my God!" * * * * * Judith, anxious to know the reason of Guinaud's visit, had rapidly changed her dress, and was about to go down again to the study when Florry's nurse called her in to look at the invalid. The girl was in one of those terrible paroxysms of excitement, common to delirium, when sick people possess unnatural strength, and Judith had to aid the nurse to hold her down. This took some time, and when at length Florry was lying comparatively quiet, Judith found that she had lost more than half an hour. At once she went downstairs again and entered the adjacent room, intending to make her appearance by the curtained door. As she stood with her hand on the lock, the door being slightly ajar, she heard Guinaud's voice raised in triumph. "Of course, monsieur, you will now permit me to be a suitor for the hand of Mees Mar-rson?" Hardly believing her ears, Judith listened intently for Marson's reply, but when it came it was so low that she could not hear it, and she only gathered its purport from the next observation of the Frenchman. "You must! Remember, I know all." "I cannot! I cannot! Besides, my daughter is ill--seriously ill." "Ah, bah! she will get well, the dear angel." "But she is to marry Mr. Spolger." "Quite a mistake, monsieur. She is to marry me! Eh, what do you say?" "No." Guinaud and Marson both turned round, to see Judith standing beside them with a look of anger on her face. "I say, no," she reiterated. "Eh, mademoiselle, but you are not the father," said Judas, with a sneer. "You marry Miss Marson," cried Judith, angrily; "you! How dare you, sir, come to the house of an English gentleman and make such a request? You--you--thief!" "Thief, mademoiselle!" said the Frenchman, smiling. "Yes! I know that you have stolen some letters from that packet addressed to me." "Eh, but it is true, mademoiselle. I have just been showing them to Monsieur Mar-rson, and he is so delighted, this dear monsieur, that he says to me: 'Take now the charming angel, Jules; she is for you.'" "I don't believe it! I don't believe it!" cried Judith, turning towards the old man. "Mr. Marson, you will never consent to give your daughter to this low spy!" "Eh, mademoiselle, you are not polite." "Speak to this man, Mr. Marson; tell him you refuse to do his bidding." The old man raised his hands helplessly and sighed.