“Do you know the persons concerned?”

“No, my dear sir; I look for information from you.  What we are told is, that a certain old idiot has fallen into the clutches of a widow.  This widow, of nine-and-twenty, has played her cards so well, that she has forty thousand francs a year, of which she has robbed two fathers of families.  She is now about to swallow down eighty thousand francs a year by marrying an old boy of sixty-one.  She will thus ruin a respectable family, and hand over this vast fortune to the child of some lover by getting rid at once of the old husband.—­That is the case as stated.”

“Quite correct,” said Victorin.  “My father-in-law, Monsieur Crevel—­”

“Formerly a perfumer, a mayor—­yes, I live in his district under the name of Ma’ame Nourrisson,” said the woman.

“The other person is Madame Marneffe.”

“I do not know,” said Madame de Saint-Esteve.  “But within three days I will be in a position to count her shifts.”

“Can you hinder the marriage?” asked Victorin.

“How far have they got?”

“To the second time of asking.”

“We must carry off the woman.—­To-day is Sunday—­there are but three days, for they will be married on Wednesday, no doubt; it is impossible.—­But she may be killed—­”

Victorin Hulot started with an honest man’s horror at hearing these five words uttered in cold blood.

“Murder?” said he.  “And how could you do it?”

“For forty years, now, monsieur, we have played the part of fate,” replied she, with terrible pride, “and do just what we will in Paris.  More than one family—­even in the Faubourg Saint-Germain—­has told me all its secrets, I can tell you.  I have made and spoiled many a match, I have destroyed many a will and saved many a man’s honor.  I have in there,” and she tapped her forehead, “a store of secrets which are worth thirty-six thousand francs a year to me; and you—­you will be one of my lambs, hoh!  Could such a woman as I am be what I am if she revealed her ways and means?  I act.

“Whatever I may do, sir, will be the result of an accident; you need feel no remorse.  You will be like a man cured by a clairvoyant; by the end of a month, it seems all the work of Nature.”

Victorin broke out in a cold sweat.  The sight of an executioner would have shocked him less than this prolix and pretentious Sister of the Hulks.  As he looked at her purple-red gown, she seemed to him dyed in blood.

“Madame, I do not accept the help of your experience and skill if success is to cost anybody’s life, or the least criminal act is to come of it.”

“You are a great baby, monsieur,” replied the woman; “you wish to remain blameless in your own eyes, while you want your enemy to be overthrown.”

Victorin shook his head in denial.