ered a moment, with disgust, the poor old books, as if they represented to him a jelly fish or some other slimy and gelatinous inhabitant of the waves, and, having no forceps with which to touch them, made a sign to Tilbak to remove his property.
"Hereafter you will spare yourself the trouble of putting such rubbish in the hands of my ward."
"Certainly, sir. And be sure that had I foreseen the trouble which these old books caused the dear boy, I should have been careful not to give them to him. Forgive him, I beg you. It wasn't his fault. I am the guilty party …"
Monsieur Dobouziez, visibly annoyed by this intercession, turned his back upon the pleader, seated himself, and methodically filling the space between the two branches of his compass with Chinese ink, settled himself to continue his diagram.
"Listen to me, boss," insisted Tilbak, after having coughed to attract the magnate's attention, "your ward is not a rascal. They are deceiving you about him … My wife knows him better, you know. She can tell you what he's worth! Are you serious about locking him up with thieves? Captain, I appeal to your honor, to your feelings as a former soldier. It is impossible foe you to condemn that child because he refused to be a Judas!… Yes—a Judas!"
At this heated defiance. Monsieur Dobouziez jumped, half rose from his chair, and more white than usual, stretched his arm toward the door with so peremptory a gesture, and cast so bitter a look at Tilbak, that the latter, fearing to do an ill office to Paridael by insisting, decided to draw on his boots, and to walk out, holding his hand to his hat.
Did the mediation of Tilbak cause the wise Do-
