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 Several minutes passed, during which we waited for the heavy tread of fat Le Blanc. Then the door opened and Leà appeared; she was trembling from head to foot and white as a ghost.

“Monsieur wants you—all of you—something has happened! Not you, Mignon—you stay here.”

Inside the court-yard, close to the door of the Marmouset, stood Le Blanc’s motor. Lemois was on the foot-board leaning over the body of a man stretched out on the two seats.

“Easy now,” Lemois whispered to Louis, who had pushed his way alongside of the others crowding about the car. “He collapsed again as soon as you all left. There is something serious I am afraid—that is why I brought him here. His mother wanted to take him home, but that’s no place for him now. He must stay here to-night. We stopped and left word for the doctor and he will be here in a minute. Be careful, Monsieur Louis—not in there—upstairs.”

Louis was careful—careful as if he were lifting a baby; but he did not delay, nor did he take him upstairs. Picking up the unconscious fisherman bodily in his arms, he bore him clear