far too busy to dance attendance upon his sweetheart, a fact which she was inclined to resent, even when he pointed out that it was manifestly impossible for him both to work for her and play with her.

One morning when his landlady came to call him, he astonished her by mistaking her for an editor, and begging her to allow him more time for his review of the Memoirs of Methuselah. When she had made sure that his request for more time had nothing to do with the rent, she fetched a doctor, who pronounced the patient to be suffering from an attack of cerebral inflammation. For two or three weeks Jack lay and babbled of books and papers, politics and plays, insomuch that his ravings would have supplied a considerable amount of useful copy had a reporter been present to take them down. He conquered the

fever, however, after a smart fight, and at length was so far advanced on the road to convalescence as to be allowed to read his letters. The first that he took up was a note from Mr. Fleming, offering to reinstate him in his former position on the Reader. Jack's heart grew light as he read, for surely this meant that Evelyn had given up her journalistic freak at last. He eagerly turned over the remaining letters, and presently came upon a large envelope directed in her handwriting. As he tore it open a couple of wedding-cards dropped out, bearing the names of Mr. and Mrs. Fleming. A little note from Evelyn accompanied them.

"DEAR JACK," it ran,- "I am sorry to hear you have been ill, but hope you will be better again by the time you get this. It will, no doubt, be a surprise to you to hear that I was married to Mr. Fleming last Tuesday. I hope you won't think I have treated you badly. I had seen so little of you for such a long time, and your behavior had become so cold and distant, that I fancied you no longer cared for me, and therefore I felt I was doing you no wrong in accepting the love of a good, kind man, whose only desire is to make me happy. My husband insists that I shall never write another line, so I have asked him to put you on his staff again, which he has agreed to do.

"With kind regards,

"Believe me, yours sincerely,
"EVELYN FLEMING."

It only remains to add that Jack did not accept Mr. Fleming's offer. He is now a valued contributor to that smart but rather scandalous paper the Pillory. His articles, though generally acknowledged to be brilliant, are so extremely cynical that no other periodical will publish them.

SHADOWED*

BY GASTON BERGERET

ADAME du Pouchel's carriage stopped at the corner of the Avenue de Messine.

Madame herself drew up the little curtain behind her and looked out. Hiding in the opening of a doorway, in an attitude of watchful jealousy she perceived-her husband. She had been followed.

At this discovery, Madame du Pouchel experienced a thrill of indignation. She adored

her husband; she was very happy with him; but having nothing with which to reproach herself, she was incensed by this jealousy, always on the alert, by this constant suspicion.

It annoyed her to be made thus an object of the most odious surveillance.

"Ah, you are following me!" she exclaimed to herself in an irritated tone. "You have no confidence in me; you are afraid to trust your honor to my affection; you would like to prevent my doing what I want to do, although I don't want to do anything wrong. Very well, then. There shall be war between us; we shall see who is going to lose most by this régime of inquisition."

And she had herself driven at once to the office of the Prefect of Police.

The Prefect of Police was deputy of her borough, a friend of her family, and an admirer of herself. Thanks to this rare combination of circumstances, she was only kept waiting while her card was being sent in.

"M. Le Préfet," she said.

"Well!" he exclaimed.

serious, I hope ? "

"This visit alarms me; nothing very

"It is really nothing at all, but it is something that I must have. Can I count on you?"

"Oh, my good will without reserve, only you know that the

* Translated by Katherine Halsey Trowbridge, from the French, for Short Stories. Copyrighted.

police can do nothing. It is necessary to have a police, in order to reassure honest people, but, between us

"Will you promise me to do it if you can ?"

"I swear it."

"You must let me have a detective to follow my husband." "What are you dreaming of?" cried the Prefect in consternation. "That can't be done."

"It was not advice, but a service you promised me. I want a detective who will follow my husband all day, wherever he goes, without leaving him for a moment. I do not know whether it

could be done cleverly?"

"Oh, you may rest assured of that."

"I shall not be sorry if my husband sees him," she continued. "Will you allow me to say

"Not a word. ing to prove it! Yes, or no? Choose

You are my friend or you are not.

I am go

"I shall be obliged to do as you wish, but"To-morrow, then," gleefully, "there will be a detective on his track."

"Yes, to-morrow then. I will write the order in your presence." "That is fine; you are a Prefect of Police. I shall be indebted to you all my life."

The next day Armand du Pouchel encountered several times an individual, of suspicious appearance, who was dressed in a threadbare overcoat, with the rosette of the Legion of Honor, no gloves, a huge cane, and a broad-brimmed hat which seemed made to reveal to himself alone the profession of its wearer.

"Is that what they call the secret police?" said Armand to himself gayly. Then he reflected that such persons are probably false agents, employed to distract the attention while the true police operate by means less evident. But it was not long before he asked himself whom the man was watching. He observed him more attentively, and at the end of the day he had no further doubt upon the subject-it was he himself who was being shadowed.

"You don't know what has happened to me?" he said to his wife on returning to the house; "the police are having me watched."

"Indeed!" replied Mme. du Pouchel, with difficulty restraining a laugh. "That is nothing to you, you have nothing to hide." "Oh! it's a matter of perfect indifference to me," and he thought no more of it,

But throughout the succeeding week he still perceived his pursuer, and little by little he began to find this espionage strange, tiresome, perplexing, and exasperating. What were they after and how long was it going to last?

However honest a man may be, he has always some little thing with which to reproach himself. But one wishes also to preserve one's personal independence. With this man at his heels everything became difficult.

Each time that Armand went into a house, he was obliged to consult himself mentally as to whether he had the right to enter or not. He had, for instance, occasion to breakfast at the apartment of one of his friends with some rather gay young actresses. With the most innocent intention he offered to escort one of them to the theatre for rehearsal. At the moment that he was putting her into the carriage he recognized his detective, calmly pacing the sidewalk before him.

Finally it became insupportable, his impatience increased, he tried to preserve his sang-froid, but one fine day, not being able to stand it any longer, he walked straight up to his persecutor.

"What is your name?" he asked in a menacing tone. "Rabarton, sir."

"Well, Rabarton, you annoy me; what do you want?" "I! Nothing, sir; I am taking a walk."

"I forbid you following me."

"I am not following you, sir."

"And if I find you in my way once again, you will hear from me!-remember what I say."

Then Armand walked off with a terrible air. But he well understood that his threat was vain. He could not fight a duel with Rabarton. To assail him with blows would have been the combat of the reed against the cudgel. As to his taking him before the Chief of Police, there was nothing to be gained by that step.

Armand went home in such a bad humor that Mme. du Pouchel could not keep a straight face.

Seeing his wife laughing, he suspected the truth, and said grimly:

"If you know anything about this stupid joke, you had better tell me."

"Is it such a bore to be followed?"

"It makes one feel like a fool."

"But have you never followed any one yourself ?”

"I followed you one single time to protect you from possible insult in case you should meet some insolent person."

"Rabarton could also be very useful to you if ever you should allow yourself to be enticed into bad company."

"And for this petty vengeance you were not afraid to deliver me into the hands of the police?"

"Oh, there's no great harm done, I only wished to make you appreciate how disagreeable a similar proceeding could be.

But I see that it has gone on long enough, and I am going to-morrow to thank the Prefect of Police."

"You are really very good," said Armand; "and do me the favor to tell me what you have discovered of interest ? "

"I never asked to have the reports of Rabarton given to me. In the first place, I should have considered it indelicate; and then I might have found out some things I would rather not know. You are not angry with me, Armand?" coaxingly.

"I am very much displeased. Such conduct is unworthy of you."

"I love you so much."

The rest may be imagined. Reconciliation was inevitable, and in the morning, before breakfast, Madame du Pouchel returned to the Prefecture of Police.

"M. Le Préfet has left, and M. Le Préfet has not yet come," the guard replied to her inquiry.

"What does that mean?" cried Mme. du Pouchel.

"Has not madame read the Official Journal this morning? The Prefect of Police has been changed."

To drive to the private residence of the ex-Prefect occupied but a few minutes. There madame explained to that gentleman that, having obtained satisfaction, she wished the mission of Rabarton brought to an end that very day. She was ready to pay whatever monsieur saw fit for the detective's services.

"You have nothing to pay," explained the ex-Prefect. "There are, in fact, certain affairs of delicate nature for which the Chief of Police is authorized to receive, from those interested, the cost of a surveillance which involves difficult investigation, and when the public welfare is not gravely affected. Your affair would have come in that category, but I wished to spare you the annoyance of appearing in person, so I gave the order as coming from myself alone. The cost will be entered among the general expenses. It was very little that one could do in behalf of a friend."

"You are altogether charming," said Madame du Pouchel.