"Quite sorry, my good friend, there should have been any misunderstanding between us," observed the woollen-draper. I was to blame to carry the matter so far. ’ He moved to his friend and grasped his hand in a gesture as deliberately dramatic as the storytelling of mademoiselle. A slow horror was dawning in his fixed eyes. I will be as silent as the grave. —'They have,' says he. You are your nephew's executioner, or he is yours. But what are you doing here?” “Old Père Runeval met me on your doorstep, and he would not let me go.
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