"I haf a wife," he said, slowly, in a sepulchral tone.
"Well, what of it? Is that a crime in France? I could almost believe it!"
"I could not liff mit' her no longer," continued Pelletan. "She wass a teufel! I leafe her!"
"Oh, that's it—so you ran away?"
"Yess, monsieur, I ran avay—avay from Paris—avay from France—I t'ought efen of going to Amérique."
"Was she so bad as all that?" asked Rushford, sympathetically.
For answer, Pelletan went to the statue of Saint Geneviève, lifted it, and took from beneath it a photograph.
"T'is iss she, monsieur," he said, and handed the photograph to
Rushford.
The latter took one look at it and passed it back.
"Not guilty!" he said. "You have my profound sympathy, Pelletan. How did you happen to get caught? You must have been exceedingly young!"