"What has become of her?" he was saying as he strode up and down; "she has not been here; she could not have come home when we parted at the door of the Vaudeville--the bed has not been slept in. Can she have gone? Is it possible that she has left me?"
He sank into a chair and hid his face in his hands.
"It was too horrible. To see him fall at my feet, struck down just when I--Who is there?" he cried suddenly, in answer to a knock at the door.
"Open, in the name of the law!"
"The police here already! What shall I do?"
"Open at once, or we shall force the door."
The young man slowly drew back the bolt and admitted the two police-agents.
"M. Gascoigne? You will not answer to your name? That is equal--we arrest you."
"On what charge?"
"It is not our place to explain. We act by authority: that is enough. Will you go with us quietly, or must we use force?"
"Of what am I accused?"
"You will hear in good time. Isidore, where is y