CHAPTER VII.

FRITZ kept the letter from Würzburg unopened in his hand.

'It's not from Minna,' he said; the handwriting is strange to me. Perhaps my father knows something about it.' He turned to his father's letter; read it; and handed it to me without a word of remark.

Mr. Keller wrote briefly as follows:'The enclosed letter has reached me by post, as you perceive, with written instructions to forward it to my son. The laws of honour guide me just as absolutely in my relations with my son as in my relations

with any other gentleman. I forward the letter to you exactly as I have received it. But I cannot avoid noticing the postmark of the city in which the Widow Fontaine and her daughter are still living. If either Minna or her mother be the person who writes to you, I must say plainly that I forbid your entering into any correspondence with them. The two families shall never be connected by marriage while I live. Understand, my dear son, that this is said in your own best interests, and said, therefore, from the heart of your father who loves you.'

While I was reading these lines Fritz had opened the letter from Würzburg. 'It's long enough, at any rate,' he said, turning over the closely-written pages to find the signature at the end.

'Well?' I asked.

Well,' Fritz repeated, it's an anonymous letter. The signature is "Your Unknown Friend.""

'Perhaps it relates to Miss Minna, or to her mother,' I suggested. Fritz turned back to the first page and looked up at me, red with anger. More abominable slanders! More lies about Minna's mother!' he burst out. Come here, David. Look at it with What do you say? Is it the writing

me.

of a woman or a man?'

The writing was so carefully disguised that it was impossible to answer his question. The letter (like the rest of the correspondence connected with this narrative) has been copied in duplicate and placed at my disposal. I reproduce it here for reasons which

will presently explain themselves-altering nothing, not even the vulgar familiarity of the address.

'My good fellow, you once did me a kindness a long time since. Never mind what it was or who I am. I mean to do you a kindness in return. Let that be enough.

'You are in love with "Jezebel's Daughter." Now, don't be angry! I know you believe Jezebel to be a deeply-injured woman; I know you have been foolish enough to fight duels at Würzburg in defence of her character.

'It is enough for you that she is a fond mother, and that her innocent daughter loves her dearly. I don't deny that she is a fond mother; but is the maternal instinct enough

of itself to answer for a woman? Why, Fritz, a cat is a fond mother; but a cat scratches and swears for all that! And poor simple little Minna, who can see no harm in anybody, who can't discover wickedness when it stares her in the face-is she a trustworthy witness to the widow's character? Bah!

'Don't tear up my letter in a rage; I am not going to argue the question with you any further. Certain criminal circumstances have come to my knowledge, which point straight to this woman. I shall plainly relate those circumstances, out of my true regard for you, in the fervent hope that I may open your eyes to the truth.

'Let us go back to the death of DoctorProfessor Fontaine, at his apartments in the