“Is that not rather a profitless speculation, my friend?” He seemed deaf to her interruption. The following morning found him in the doctor's waiting room, a black cigar turning unlighted in his teeth. All that was needed to complete the simile was that the girl should burst into song. At this moment, Blueskin appeared with the lamp, and revealed a horrible spectacle,—the floor deluged with blood,—various articles of furniture upset,—papers scattered about,—the murdered man's cloak, trampled upon, and smeared with gore,—his hat, crushed and similarly stained,—his sword,—the ensanguined cloth,—with several other ghastly evidences of the slaughterous deed. "Open my heart, Father of Mercy!" she murmured, in a humble tone, and with downcast looks, "and make me sensible of the error of my ways. ” “You seem to have said just what had to be said. ‘Up, Jacques, up,’ she ordered.
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