"H'm! It's an obscure period of history, and therefore very interesting."

66

And do you hope to throw a ray of unexpected light upon it by any chance?"

"I mean to read a short paper—”

"Upon Attila ?"

"Yes; upon the early history of our good town of SaintPignon les Girouettes."

"Yes, yes. But what's the matter with you?"

M. Bonamy was livid, and a sudden gush of bile lent a yellow tint to his cheeks and forehead.

He answered with a great effort, "Nothing."

But the blow had struck home! Once more Quiès stood in his path and barred it. Once more Quiès was about to deprive him of the fruit of his toilsome labours. "No, no," he muttered, "this shall not be !"

Then the idea of an evil deed took root in his mind. M. Bonamy did not choose that Dr. Quiès should read his paper upon the origin and early history of Saint-Pignon at the meeting of the Archæological Society, and he regarded any means by which this could be prevented as allowable. He took good care, however, to conceal the sentiments which disturbed him; for to betray them might thwart his scheme of vengeance.

The apparent harmony that reigned among the guests of the good Commandant was, therefore, entirely undisturbed, and on the following day the christening of the little Vernet La Carriole took place with great pomp in the church of a neighbouring commune. There is as yet

CHAPTER IX.

DIJON !-FIVE MINUTES!

HALF an hour after the close of the festivities, Doctor J. B. Quiès, who thought it unnecessary to remain any longer at Plessis, announced his intention of departing, since travel back he must, and M. Bonamy applied himself to thinking how he could prevent the worthy savant's return to Saint-Pignon. The solemn sitting of the Geographical, Numismatical, and Archæological Society was to take place in three days from the present time.

How could Dr. Quiès be kept at a safe distance for that period? Ever since the preceding evening M. Bonamy had been putting this question to himself, and it had cost him more trouble to solve the problem than to compose his famous memoir. He would probably have failed altogether and given it up, had not the devil, who takes pleasure in helping out evil schemes, seconded him in the accomplishment of his design. The Commandant was summoned by telegraph to the south on urgent business, and had to start that same evening.

"My young friend," said he to Henri, "would you like to come to Tarascon with me? It is quite close to Marseilles. Marseilles is at the gate of Algiers, and I engage that your father will be glad to embrace his son and shake hands with old La Carriole. Hey! what do you think? We will write to mamma when we get there, and we won't say a single word to Quiès about it. He abhors travelling as nature abhors a vacuum, and he is just the man not to let you go."

A youth of twenty who would refuse such an expedition is as rare as an urchin of five years old who would say "No" to a slice of bread and jam.

Henri jumped with joy, and pressed the hand of the Commandant all the more closely because he felt himself under a double obligation in this matter, imperativ reasons of economy alone having prevented him from accompanying or rejoining his father.

Quiès, as we now see, was about to be left at the mercy of his rival.

The christening feast was copious and prolonged, and the party set out in a carriage at five o'clock for the railway-station at Mehen, so as to be in time for the express which leaves Paris at eight o'clock, and crosses that from Marseilles at this point. The arrangement rather frightened the doctor at first, but he soon got over his fear. After all, it was not travelling in the dark that he dreaded, it was travelling at all.

It was already dark when the party alighted at the entrance to the station. A few gas-jets flickered amid the gloom. It was just the time and place for an evil deed.

During their drive Anthime had not taken his eyes off the unhappy Quiès. He had observed how the poor fellow, shaken and hurt by the jolting of the carriage, overpowered by the fumes of the generous wine, of which he had drunk freely, had tried to find a place of repose for his weary head-had slept, awoke, and slept again. Fatigue would deliver him over helplessly to his enemy. What was he going to do with him?

Commandant La Carriole and Henri had already got into their compartment, after the usual farewells, and Anthime was still anxiously seeking for a means of wreaking his vengeance, when a loud voice uttered the familiar words:

"Take your seats! take your seats!"

A diabolical idea occurred to him. He shook Quiès, who was half asleep on a bench, and shouted in his ear:

Quiès stood up, mechanically. His enemy took him by the arm, opened the door of a carriage, and having hoisted him into it with great difficulty, shut the door, saying:

"I will be with you in a moment."

The doctor sank down upon the well-stuffed cushion, and re-closed his eyes, without troubling himself about his travelling companion. Quiès, on a journey, descended