Paul's broad arms, she felt safe at last. She went peacefully home with
her husband, and after a good night's rest in the little rooms he had
taken for her, she was able to listen calmly when told next day of the
capture of the whole Marac family. They had been taken red-handed in
their guilt, for had not the pedlar's body been found in a disused
cellar under their house?

He was brought to Brussels to be buried, but his name was never known,
and his money was never claimed. Probably, as he had told Babette, he
had been a friendless old man, wandering alone from place to place.

The police were generous. Half his money was given to the poor and the
rest was handed to Babette, and helped to furnish her new home. A simple
stone cross now marks the unknown pedlar's grave: but flowers bloom
there abundantly, and though nameless, he is not forgotten. Many a
prayer is uttered for him both by Babette and her children, for the
memory of that terrible New Year's Eve will never fade from her mind.

* * * * *



_Personal Reminiscences of Sir Andrew Clark._

BY E. H. PITCAIRN.


[Illustration: SIR ANDREW CLARK.]

With a heartfelt pang, hundreds read in an evening paper on October 20th