“He is innocent!” came from Clotilde, against her intention; Aurora covertly put out a hand, and Clotilde clutched it nervously.

“As, for example, robbery,” said the self-recovered Aurora, ignoring Clotilde’s look of protestation.

“Call it so,” responded M. Grandissime.  “Have you heard at whose house this was?”

“No, sir.”

“It was at the house of Palmyre Philosophe.”

“Palmyre Philosophe!” exclaimed Aurora, in low astonishment.  Clotilde let slip, in a tone of indignant incredulity, a soft “Ah!” Aurora turned, and with some hope that M. Grandissime would not understand, ventured to say in Spanish, quietly: 

“Come, come, this will never do.”

And Clotilde replied in the same tongue: 

“I know it, but he is innocent.”

“Let us understand each other,” said their visitor.  “There is not the faintest idea in the mind of one of us that Professor Frowenfeld is guilty of even an intention of wrong; otherwise I should not be here.  He is a man simply incapable of anything ignoble.”

Clotilde was silent.  Aurora answered promptly, with the air of one not to be excelled in generosity: 

“Certainly, he is very incapabl’.”

“Still,” resumed the visitor, turning especially to Clotilde, “the known facts are these, according to his own statement:  he was in the house of Palmyre on some legitimate business which, unhappily, he considers himself on some account bound not to disclose, and by some mistake of Palmyre’s old Congo woman, was set upon by her and wounded, barely escaping with a whole skull into the street, an object of public scandal.  Laying aside the consideration of his feelings, his reputation is at stake and likely to be ruined unless the affair can be explained clearly and satisfactorily, and at once, by his friends.”

“And you undertake—­” began Aurora.

“Madame Nancanou,” said Honore Grandissime, leaning toward her earnestly, “you know—­I must beg leave to appeal to your candor and confidence—­you know everything concerning Palmyre that I know.  You know me, and who I am; you know it is not for me to undertake to confer with Palmyre.  I know, too, her old affection for you; she lives but a little way down this street upon which you live; there is still daylight enough at your disposal; if you will, you can go to see her, and get from her a full and complete exoneration of this young man.  She cannot come to you; she is not fit to leave her room.”

“Cannot leave her room?”

“I am, possibly, violating confidence in this disclosure, but it is unavoidable—­you have to know:  she is not fully recovered from a pistol-shot wound received between two and three weeks ago.”

“Pistol-shot wound!”

Both ladies started forward with open lips and exclamations of amazement.

“Received from a third person—­not myself and not Professor Frowenfeld—­in a desperate attempt made by her to avenge the wrongs which she has suffered, as you, Madam, as well as I, are aware, at the hands of—­”