The old man’s cries echoed and reechoed throughout the house. “The diamond?” “Help!” Mike’s knife was driven into the struggling man’s breast. Then the dive-keeper hurried from the scene. CHAPTER XIV. BURT KNOCKED OUT. After being stabbed by Enoch Cook, poor Pierre Jacquet lay motionless upon the pavement. He was found there by the policeman on that beat, who had him conveyed to the Oak Street station. From there Pierre was taken to one of the public hospitals. There he related the circumstances attending the stabbing. Burt saw an account of the affair in the newspapers, and visited the hospital. Monsieur Jacquet welcomed his visitor upon learning the latter was a detective. The Frenchman’s wound was deep and ugly, but not fatal. Burt found him propped up with pillows, and he seated himself at the sufferer’s bedside. “You know Monsieur Cook?” asked Pierre, after the detective had been introduced. “Yes; I’ve known him some years.” “Do you also know Kidd?” Jacquet’s eyes blazed fiercely when he mentioned the man who had wronged him. “I only know him by reputation,” replied Burt. “He is a devil--a snake in the grass. They tell me I shall recover and be able to go out in a few days. Then--ah! Kidd will feel my wrath.” “Is he your enemy?” “Monsieur, I only desire to live that I may kill him.” “He must have wronged you deeply.” Pierre laughed hysterically. “Monsieur, I keep a cabaret in Paris. The police do not speak well of me or my customers. I had a wife--pretty Aimee. She was far above me in station when we married. “Aimee did not like my business, and I had promised her to give it up at the close of the present year. Three months ago--only three short months ago--Cook and Kidd came to board with me. “They were recommended to my cabaret by a friend of mine. Two months ago they left. Aimee went with Kidd.” A look, such as a tiger might wear when at bay, appeared in Jacquet’s eyes, and he gritted his teeth hard. “Then, as I understand it, you came to America in search of your wife,” said Burt. “No.” Burt looked at the Frenchman in some surprise. “You did not come as an emigrant?” he remarked. “I came to kill Richard Kidd.” “My man,” said the detective kindly, “don’t you know that murder is punished with death?” “Of course I do; but what care I whether I live or die, now that Aimee is forever lost to me?” replied Jacquet. “Are you sure she eloped with Dick Kidd?” “Positive.” “You did not see them leave together?” “No; but she left behind a cruel letter, saying that Kidd was the partner of their flight, and that they were to be married upon arriving in this country.” “Have you the letter?” “Monsieur, I tore it into a thousand pieces,” replied Pierre. “You know of the existence of this scoundrel, Kidd?” “Yes.” “Can you tell me whether he is in this city?” asked Jacquet. “Cook declares the man is not in New York,” answered Burt.