"If we are to speak of Bertaud's allusions," said M. Lecoq, "I have
heard two very curious stories, though I have been here but a few
hours. It seems that this Mademoiselle Laurence--"

M. Plantat abruptly interrupted the detective.

"Calumnies! odious calumnies! The lower classes, to annoy the rich,
do not hesitate to say all sorts of things against them. Don't you
know it? Is it not always so? The gentry, above all, those of a
provincial town, live in glass houses. The lynx eyes of envy watch
them steadily night and day, spy on them, surprise what they regard
as their most secret actions to arm themselves against them. The
bourgeois goes on, proud and content; his business prospers; he
possesses the esteem and friendship of his own class; all this
while, he is vilified by the lower classes, his name dragged in the
dust, soiled by suppositions the most mischievous. Envy, Monsieur,
respects nothing, no one."

"If Laurence has been slandered," observed Dr. Gendron, smiling,
"she has a good advocate to defend her."

The old justice of the peace (the man of bronze, as M. Courtois
called him) blushed slightly, a little embarrassed.

"There are causes," said he, quietly, "which defend themselves.
Mademoiselle Courtois is one of those young girls who has a right
to all respect. But there are evils which no laws can cure, and
which revolt me. Think of it, monsieurs, our reputations, the
honor of our wives and daughters, are at the mercy of the first
petty rascal who has imagination enough to invent a slander. It