as coolly as I had been her lover.  Passion has nothing to do with the combinations of strategic genius:  I am something of a Washington.  My theory of her clandestine marriage was one of the most masterly fictions of the age—­a plot worthy of Thackeray.  If I could have succeeded in mutilating the statue in the graveyard, I might have carried it, while you would have admired my act of iconoclasm with all your Puritan nature.  In the momentary abandonment of my plans, owing to the machinations of my enemies, you will conceive that I am not very rich.  My college-debts and other expenses I am obliged to leave for your kind attention.  The main point of this letter, which M. Fortnoye has persuaded me to set down as distinctly as in my present feeble state I can, is that Francine is a pretty little maid who has never passed by Gretna Green.  There! that is my credo, and I will subscribe to it,

“Your loving nephew, John.

“P.  S. Address, with such an enclosure as your generosity will prompt, Jean K. FFARINA, sole representative and cosmetical chemist in America on behalf of the Farinas of Cologne, at New Orleans where I am going to beat my adversaries like Old hic—­”

At this point the tipsy scrawl became illegible.

“This is not a very handsome apology.  Did Fortnoye accept it?” I asked, turning over the clammy and malodorous epistle.  At this inquiry the crack of the door widened and Charles appeared, on fire with enthusiasm, and so possessed with self-importance that he forgot the betrayal of his indiscretion.

“I can reply to that question,” said Charles.  “When M. Fortnoye received the paper from the duelist he read it over and said, ’You have meant to impose on me, monsieur, with an incomplete confession.  But, in return for your imperfect restoration of Mademoiselle Joliet’s portrait, you have unconsciously set down such a masterpiece of yourself that I am certain your aunt will see you as she never did before.’”

Charles, having thus added himself to our cabal without rebuke, took a lively interest in what followed.  The proud father continued:  “My son-in-law, after some business preliminaries, wrote me a handsome letter demanding what he had already effectively possessed himself of.  I wrote to Francine, already returned to her duties, to be a good girl and make her husband obey her in all things.”

“That may have been,” said I, “what made Francine take to laughing all day and all night, as I heard she did some little time after my departure from her house.  The next news of her,” I pursued, “was that she had been spirited away by some sly old kidnapper.  I almost suspected Kranich.”

“The old kidnapper,” said Joliet, laughing heartily at the compliment, “is the man now talking to you.  I wanted to take Francine to her godmother.  I turned the key in the door at Carlsruhe, set the geographers all upon their travels to explore new worlds, and we have been living ever since quite close to Madame Kranich, who treats me like an emperor.”