listened for a moment at Angélique's door; all
was still there; he peered through the keyhole,
but there was no light within, except from the
flicker of her dying fire. Feeling that all was
safe, he returned to his master's chamber, and
taking a light, trod carefully along the corridor,
and down the staircase to the lower story, to
get the articles he needed.

Scarcely had he reached the lowest step, when
Angelique's door opened without a sound, and
she looked over the balustrades at him: she had
either been in bed, or was ready for bed, for a
long white night-dress was her only covering.
She entered her husband's room. Approaching
the table on which his drink for the night was
set, she removed the stopper from the carafe,
and poured into it the whole contents of a
bottle she carried. At this moment she heard
Servin approaching; he was ascending the stairs,
she saw the reflection from the light he carried,
on the ceiling of the room. She could not regain
her chamber unobserved, but remembering that
she had pulled her door close as she came out,
she darted towards a large closet in her
husband's room, lined with fixed wardrobes, and
opening the door of one of these, stepped lightly
in.

She had scarcely shut the door upon herself
when Servin entered the outer room, and shut
himself in. She drew before her some of the
garments which hung from the pegs, and
cautiously settling herself into an endurable
position, could hear Servin making, and drinking,
his coffee. Presently Monsieur Tiquet began
to mumble indistinctly, and to toss his arms
and head. Anon the mutterings became
incoherent sharply-uttered words; at length a
fierce delirium came on. Servin took his
master's hand: it was like fire to the touch.
The sick man called for drink, and Servin, who
had taken especial care in the preparation,
hastened to give him some—but to his surprise
found the stopper out of the carafe!

Now, he distinctly knew that he had
replaced this stopper; a slight circumstance had
impressed the fact on his mind; it had fallen
from his hand upon the table, and had made a
noise, which had startled his master from his
first sleep.

He laid down the half-filled glass, and filled
another with pure water, which the president drank
eagerly. Then, going into the corridor, Servin
went to Angélique's door; it was closed, but not
latched, and yielded to his touch. The fire was
nearly out when he looked in, but, as his eyes
became used to the half-twilight, he saw that the bed
coverings were turned down, and that the bed
was unoccupied. He called to his mistress,
supposing that she might be in the dressing-room,
but when no answer was returned, he came back.
He was sure that Angélique had entered her
husband's chamber while he was first absent.
He looked under the heavy valance of the
bed, and examined every portion of the
furniture, under or behind which she might be.
Last of all, he went to the closet, and, as if by
instinct, pulled open the leaf of the wardrobe,
and drew aside the president's robe of office,
under which the guilty woman lay.

Her eyes met his, and without a word she
rose and stepped from her hiding-place to the
floor.

"Madame, you have broken the agreement."
You cannot blame me if I now take measures
to prevent any injury either to my master
or myself. You must not leave this room
till the physician, for whom I shall instantly
send, shall have decided whether or no there
be poison in the carafe the stopper of which I
know was put in by me, but which I found lying
on the table."

The most abject entreaties succeeded
Angélique's first speechless terror, but Servin was
deaf to her prayers. In the rage which
quickly supervened, when she flung herself
on him in her endeavours to escape, her
strength was no match for his; yet the struggle
was long before he at last got her into the
closet, which had no window, and there locked
her in.

As soon as he had done that, he proceeded
to awaken one of the men-servants, and sent
him for the physician. His master was
alarmingly worse; his thin voice was raised in fearful
screams; his whole frame was agitated by vain
struggles to get up.

"Did you dare to kill my beautiful wife?" he
asked.

"Lie down, monsieur. I assure you that
madame is safe. She prefers to await the doctor's
opinion in your wardrobe closet; she is too
much agitated to come near your bed."

The president stared at him, as if trying to
comprehend his words, and then, with a heavy
sigh, sank back exhausted. Dawn was breaking
when the doctor arrived. Having first attended
to the patient, who was quiet, though still
wandering in mind, he listened while Servin
detailed his suspicions and the causes which had
aroused them, and finally produced the carafe,
filled with clear amber fluid, at the bottom of
which a white sediment had settled.

By noon on the ensuing day, all Paris was
in a ferment. The intelligence was in every
mouth that Madame Tiquet, for an attempt upon
her husband's life, was in prison and awaiting
trial. The Chevalier Mongeorge, also,
who had been until near midnight at the Hotel
Tiquet, was under arrest, and so was Angélique's
maid. The girl had in her terror confessed
all she knew, which was not a little. She
declared that her mistress had frequently gone,
accompanied by her, to the cabaret of Cattelain,
whence she brought sometimes powders,
sometimes liquids, which she told the girl were
cosmetics that Cattelain's mother taught him to
prepare. But the woman had watched, and
had seen her mistress put portions of these
things into the food of an Angora cat, and
into the drinking-vessels of birds; and they
had all died. On one occasion, the girl had
been about to drink some soup which stood
in a bowl on her mistress's table, but had only
taken one or two mouthfuls, when the lady came