"No, I must speak.  _Le bon Dieu_ has sent you to me.  Listen, _mon brave_, I was in the household of Monsieur Delatour.  I had seen Mademoiselle Lucie grow up from childhood.  She was charming.  But she married and passed largely out of our life.  Monsieur Delatour grew old.  He had made his will leaving the property chiefly to his daughter.  But there was a nephew, a spendthrift--what you call in English the black sheep--and after Monsieur Delatour died this _mauvais sujet_ offered me money to swear that there was a later will.  The object?  To tie up the estate, to delay the settlement, to force a compromise with the daughter.  I took the money.  I perjured myself. There was no later will.  The property belongs to Mademoiselle Lucie--pardon, Madame Sheldon."