on the desk and unfolding a white jacket.
"But surely you can not hope to glean any information from the children!" the superintendent protested. "I thought you were simply going to make a pretense of examining them as a blind. Mrs. Martin and I have questioned every one of them most carefully, and I assure you there is absolutely nothing to be gained by going over that ground again. Besides, some of them have become rather nervous, and we don't want to have their little heads filled with disagreeable notions, you know. I think it would be much better if Mother Martin or I were present while the children are examined. It would give them greater confidence, you know—"
"Monsieur"—de Grandin spoke in the level, toneless voice he assumed before one of his wild outbursts of anger—"you will please do exactly as I command. Otherwise" He paused significantly and began removing the clinical smock.
"Oh, by no means, my dear sir," the superintendent hastened to assure him. "No, no; I wouldn't for the world have you think I was trying to put difficulties in your way. Oh, no; I only thought"
"Monsieur," the little Frenchman repeated, "from this time onward, until we dismiss the case, I shall do the thinking. You will kindly have the children brought to me, one at a time."
To see the spruce little scientist among the children was a revelation to me. Always tart of speech to the verge of bitterness, with a keen, mordant wit which cut like a razor or scratched like a briar, de Grandin seemed the last one to glean information from children naturally timid in the presence of a doctor. But his smile grew brighter and brighter and his humor better and better as child after child entered the office, answered a few seemingly idle questions and passed from the room. At length a little girl, some four or five years old, came in, the hem of her blue pinafore twisted between her plump baby fingers in embarrassment.
"Ah," de Grandin breathed, "here is one from whom we shall obtain something of value, my friend, or I much miss my guess.
"Holà, ma petite tête de chou!" he exclaimed, snapping his fingers at the tot. "Come hither and tell Dr. de Grandin all about it!"
His "little cabbage-head" gave him an answering smile, but one of somewhat doubtful quality. "Dr. Grandin not hurt Betsy?" she asked, half confidently, half fearsomely.
"Parbleu, not I, my pigeon," he replied as he lifted her to the desk. "Regardez-vous!" from the pocket of his jacket he produced a little box of bonbons and thrust them into her chubby hand. "Eat them, my little onion," he commanded. Tête du diable, but they are an excellent medicine for loosening the tongue!"
Nothing loth, the little girl began munching the sweetmeats, regarding her new friend with wide, wondering eyes. "They said you would hurt me—cut my tongue out with a knife if I talked to you," she informed him, then paused to pop another chocolate button into her mouth.
"Mort d'un chat', did they, indeed!" he demanded. "And who was the vile, detestable one who so slandered Jules de Grandin? I shall—s-s-sh!" he interrupted himself, turning and crossing the office in three long, catlike leaps. At the entrance he paused a moment, then grasped the handle and jerked the door suddenly open.
On the sill, looking decidedly surprized, stood Mr. Gervaise.
"Ah, Monsieur," de Grandin's voice held an ugly, rasping note as he glared directly into the superintendent's eyes, "you are perhaps seeking for something? Yes?"
