"Oh, well, follies of youth, call them. Gaspard was wild; he first left here because of a mock-marriage escapade; when two years after he came back with this little doll we supposed it was another case; at any rate, Gaspard was once drunk enough to boast that she could never prove the marriage." Cambia could restrain herself only with desperate efforts. These were knife blows. "Were there no heirs?" "I have never heard. It matters little here. But, madame, you know of Gaspard's death; can you not give me the facts so that I may obtain proofs?" She looked at him steadily. "I saw him die." "Ah, that simplifies it all," said the count, pleasantly. "Will you be kind enough to go before an attesting officer and complete the proofs? You have answered the advertisement--do I insult you by speaking of reward?" He looked critically at her simple but elegant attire and hesitated. "No. But I do not care for money. I will furnish positive proof of the death of Gaspard Levigne for the violin mentioned in the advertisement." The man was now much astounded. "But madame, it is an heirloom; that is why I have advertised for it." "Then get it. And let me receive it direct from the hands of the present holder or I shall not furnish the proofs." Some doubt of the woman's sanity flashed over the count. "I have already explained, madame, that it is an heirloom----" "And I have shown you that I do not consider that as important." "But of what use can it possibly be to you? There are other Cremonas I will buy--" "I want this one because it is the violin of Gaspard Levigne, and he was my husband." The count nearly leaped from the floor. "When did he marry you, madame?" "That is a long story; but he did; we were bohemians in Paris. I am heir to his interests in these mines, but I care little for that--very little. I am independent. My husband's violin is my one wish now." The realization of how completely he had been trapped betrayed the forced courtesy of the man. "You married him. I presume you ascertained that the American wife was dead?" "You have informed me that the American was not his wife." "But she was, and if she is living to-day madame's claims are very slender." "You speak positively!" "I do. I saw the proofs. We should not have given the girl any recognition without them, knowing Gaspard's former escapade." "Then," said the woman, her face lighting up with a sudden joy, and growing stern again instantly, "then you lied just now, you cowardly hound." "Madame." The count had retreated behind a chair and looked anxiously at the bell, but she was in the way.