‘A little promenade, madame?’ Madame Valade rose from the chintz-covered chair with alacrity and a little rustle of her silken petticoats. The necessity which had previously existed of leaving the ghastly evidence of the murderous deed undisturbed,—the presence of the mangled corpse,—the bustle of the inquest, at which her attendance was required,—all these circumstances produced a harrowing effect upon the young girl's imagination. “Stop me if there is anything you want to watch. You see to what it has brought you. “You, too,” he said abruptly. ” The three men, who had arrived within a minute or two of one another, received her little speech in dead silence. It wouldn’t be you.
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