according to M. Goizot, of sixteen authors; who probably chatted laughed, drank, and smoked the piece into existence, at a café; and the piece becoming a reality, the whole company of revellers were named as the many fathers of that minute bantling.

Undoubtedly the most marvellous example of dramatic eccentricity that was ever put upon record is the one which tells us of a regular performance by professional actors in a public theatre, before an ordinary audience, who had extraordinary interest in the drama. The locality was in Paris, in the old theatre of the Porte Saint-Martin. The piece was the famous melodrama, 'La Pie Voleuse,' on which Rossini founded 'La Gazza Ladra,' and which, under the name of The Maid and the Magpie,' afforded such a triumph to Miss Kelly as that lady may remember with pride; for we believe that most accomplished and most natural of all actresses still survives-or was surviving very lately-with two colleagues at least of the olden time, Mrs. W. West and Miss Love. When 'La Pie Voleuse' was being acted at the above-named French theatre, the allied armies had invaded France; a portion of the invading force had entered Paris. The circumstance now to be related is best told on French authority. An English writer might almost be suspected of calumniating the French people by narrating such an incident, unsupported by reference to the source from which he derived it. We take it from one of the many dramatic feuilletons of M. Paul Foucher, an author of several French plays, a critic of French players and play-writers, and a relative, by marriage, to M. Victor Hugo. This is what M. Paul Foucher tells us: "On the evening of the second entry of the foreign armies into Paris, the popular melodrama, 'La Pie Voleuse,' was being acted at the Porte Saint-Martin. There was one thousand eight hundred francs in the house, which at that time was considered a handsome receipt. During the performance the doors were closed, because the rumbling noise of the cannon, rolling over the stones, interrupted the interest of the dialogue, and it rendered impossible the sympathetic attention of the audience." Frenchmen there were who were ashamed of this heartless indifference for the national tragedy. Villemot was disgusted at this elasticity of the Parisian spirit, and he added to his rebuke these remarkable words: "I take pleasure in hoping that we may never again be subjected to the same trial, and that, in any case, we we may bear it in a more dignified fashion." How Paris bore it, when the terrible event again occurred, is too well known to be retold; but the incident of La Pie Voleuse' is perhaps the most eccentric of the examples of dramatic and popular eccentricity to be found in the annals of the French stage.

Uncle John.

By G. J. WHYTE-MELVILLE, AUTHOR OF 'KATE COVENTRY'

'DIGBY GRAND,' ETC.

CHAPTER XIX.

THE SLASHER.

BUT before Maxwell could interfere, Perigord had got himself out of the supper-room, and was intent only on identifying the stranger whose voice he heard in altercation-perhaps I should rather say, in explanation-with the General at the top of the stairs. Our young gentleman, excited by lights, wine, music, and, as he considered, unparalleled social success, felt his faculties sharpened, his energies aroused, and longed only for an adventure that should bring them all into play. Where had he heard that voice? Like an inspiration it flashed upon him. In spite of fair-haired wig, stoop, and spectacles, this was the man who had been hanging about Lexley's parsonage the day before his wife's disappearance, this was the man who had spoken to Mrs. Lexley at the gate when she left her home. With considerable presence of mind the youth pounced on Mr. Dorimer in the entrance-hall, now thronged with guests waiting for their carriages, and shook him frankly by the hand. Delancy-we may as well call him henceforth by his right name-seized the opportunity with characteristic promptitude, pleased to show that he was known to one person, at least, in all that assemblage, and walked into the street arm-in-arm with his young friend at the moment Horace Maxwell came out of the supper-room, where he had been searching for the late Etonian, in obedience to Miss Dennison's commands.

He had brought no overcoat, his hat was under his arm; he gave chase without delay, determined to keep the young gentleman in sight and extricate him, if necessary, from the toils of a sharper, shrewdly suspecting this uninvited guest to be one of that fraternity for whose sustenance fools seem especially provided. He followed at a prudent distance, and smiled to observe with what a show of intimacy they walked together arm-in-arm.

"Will you smoke?" said Delancy, proffering a case full of large high-flavoured cigars. "No? Quite right. Bad habit for a young man. I've knocked about so much myself in all sorts of climates that I couldn't do without it. If you like to try one, you won't find these very strong."

Young Perigord, who, I am sorry to say, smoked a mixture of

nigger-head and cavendish in private, resented the imputation of squeamishness by accepting what he was pleased to call "a roofer," and, after a dozen puffs, began to think his new friend not such a bad fellow after all, resolving the while to finish his adventure, as he would his cigar, to the bitter end.

"I knew you directly you came down," said he, "though you've a different kind of thatch on to-night, and you had no goggles when I saw you in the country. I say, we didn't think then we should ever meet at such a swell place as that,"-indicating by a backward jerk of his head the house they had left, from which the notes of harp and fiddle still reached their ears, while shadows flitted across its windowblinds, bobbing up and down in harmony with the strains.

Delancy glanced sharply at him, wondering how much he would swallow.

"The fact is," he answered, "I'm obliged to go about in different disguises. I don't mind telling you. It's quite unnecessary in society like that we have just quitted, but my life would not be safe if I was recognised in the streets. I am here on a business of secret diplomacy, and I have had a hint that the Internationalists are looking after me. You know what that means!"

He drew his hand across his throat, and gathered from Perigord's interested face that he had not miscalculated his young friend's powers of deglutition.

"You should have called at our place when you were in the neighbourhood," continued the latter, fishing, as it seemed, for further information. "Lexley is a capital fellow, and we could have shown you some good cricket. Besides, you know Mrs. Lexley, don't you?"

"I never make half-confidences," replied the other, turning his cigar thoughtfully between finger and thumb. "I am safe with you, but of course this is in strict confidence as between gentlemen. I do know Mrs. Lexley. I have known her a long time. The Reds threatened her too. It was to warn her I went down there. a few weeks the danger will have blown over, but at present she is in hiding-close hiding. I do not even know where she is myself."

In

It was the only word of truth he had spoken in the whole interview, and the only one perhaps the other did not quite believe. Perigord pondered. The adventure, the disclosures, the man himself, all were interesting to the last degree. He must see more before he parted with him of this mysterious individual, so calm, so undefeated, though he had just been virtually turned out of a ball-room, and wore a light wig with spectacles because agents of the Red Republic were thirsting for his blood.

"I am deuced hungry !" exclaimed the young gentleman, throwing away the end of his cigar, and chinking two or three sovereigns in his

waistcoat-pocket. "Can't we get some supper somewhere? I have lots of money. You call; I'll pay."

The other laughed. "I don't know London very well," said he, "but there used to be a place near here where one could get a lobster and a bottle of champagne at any hour of the day or night."

They had drifted, as it were, insensibly along Piccadilly, and had reached the neighbourhood of Leicester Square. Horace Maxwell, following with cautious steps, saw them turn into and out of a narrow street, cross an alley, and disappear through a door that swung open for all who desired to enter.

He determined to wait a few minutes before he presented himself, but remained at a short distance carefully on the watch. A policeman turned his bull's-eye on him, and continued his beat. Everything was orderly and quiet outside. Everything seemed equally well conducted within.

If Delancy, as his manner inferred, was a perfect stranger, the waiter deserved infinite credit for the rapidity with which he brought champagne and shell-fish on a clean napkin-covered tray, even before these refreshments were ordered. The billiard-marker in the next room, too, must have had some intuitive sense that detected the arrival of a proficient in his favourite game, to exclaim triumphantly," Here's a gent as will give it, Captain!" And the person so denominated—an ill-favoured reprobate in yesterday's shirt-sleeves, ragged whiskers and a profusion of Mosaic gold-must have been strangely wanting in confidence to withdraw so readily his offer of playing any man in the room for a sovereign who would allow him five in a game of fifty up; while two or three gentlemen of equally unprepossessing exterior winked at each other, no doubt from weakness of eyesight or the force of a bad habit.

From the table at which Delancy sat with his young acquaintance the billiard-players could be seen through an open door passing to and fro in the enjoyment of that delightful pastime. Perigord, who drank a tumbler of vile champagne with a zest the elder man could not but admire, began to fidget in his chair long before the lobster was finished.

"Hang it! let's have a game," said he. "I don't know your form, but I'll play you even, and the loser shall pay for supper."

Now in a nature like Delancy's the predatory instincts are never dormant. He was a swindler, he was a sharper, a man of extraordinary cunning, shifts and resources, but he was also a gambler to the backbone. He would play for hundreds if he could afford it, but was no less greedy for pounds, shillings, and even pence. He would have cheated a schoolboy out of his marbles no less eagerly than a duke out of his acres. All the rapacity of his character had been roused by the mere chink of two or three sovereigns in

Perigord's waistcoat-pocket, and he could no more resist his longing to possess them than a hawk can help tearing the prey she has struck down.

But the hawk is unwilling to share with other hawks, and Delancy had no idea of allowing his pigeon to be despoiled ever so little by birds of his own feather.

"Billiards," he observed, tapping thoughtfully on a lobster's claw. "It wouldn't be quite fair. Few men can give me odds at billiards. I had rather play some game of chance, if you won't allow me to consider you my guest. Something like heads or tails, odd and even. What do you say to beggar-my-neighbour ?"

"Too childish!" exclaimed Perigord, indignantly.

"Blind hookey; lansquenet; monté," continued the other. "No. All these require a certain number of players. I can think of nothing but écarté.

"I'll play you at écarté," said the lad, who considered himself exceedingly skilful in that game. "Play you for the price of our supper, and the winner shall stand brandy-and-soda for two. Here, waiter, bring a pack of cards."

"Hush!" exclaimed Delancy. "This is not a club, and I dare say they would be puzzled to find such a thing in the house."

But while he spoke the waiter had put them on the table. One of the unprepossessing gentlemen, peering through the door, nudged another unprepossessing gentleman, and laughed.

The Slasher's still on the same lay," he whispered. "It's the old story. He has caught a green one to-night; green as grass."

"Green be hanged!" was the reply. "He's too simple by half. More likely a bonnet than a flat."

You never know what the Slasher is up to," said the first speaker in a tone of admiration. "Now, who's this chap? He looks like a real swell. This must be a pal of the Slasher's who stands in."

The last observation was elicited by the appearance of Horace Maxwell, who now walked in with perfect equanimity, ordered a brandy-and-soda, crossed over to the table at which the écarté players were seated, and while he studied Delancy's face, figure, and general appearance, narrowly watched the progress of the game.

The Slasher, as they called him, from the scar on his left hand, sat with his back against the wall. He had played écarté too often in doubtful company to permit the overlooking of his cards by a bystander. Horace, therefore, posted himself behind Perigord, who, wholly unconscious of his presence, continued his amusement, playing with fair average skill and that extraordinary luck which so often attends the gambling ventures of the young.

Delancy, frowned on by Fortune, had recourse to Art-a mistress, who never fails her suitors, and who, though she must be wooed with