ould like
to examine the house," he said.

Newman slowly brought down his eyes and looked at him; he had a vague
impression that the young man at the chimney-piece was inclined to
irony. He was a handsome fellow, his face wore a smile, his mustaches
were curled up at the ends, and there was a little dancing gleam in his
eye. "Damn his French impudence!" Newman was on the point of saying to
himself. "What the deuce is he grinning at?" He glanced at Madame de
Cintre; she was sitting with her eyes fixed on the floor. She raised
them, they met his, and she looked at her brother. Newman turned again
to this young man and observed that he strikingly resembled his sister.
This was in his favor, and our hero's first impression of the Count
Valentin, moreover, had been agreeable. His mistrust expired, and he
said he would be very glad to see the house.

The young man gave a frank laugh, and laid his hand on one of the
candlesticks. "Good, good!" he exclaimed. "Come, then."

But Madame de Cintre rose quickly and grasped his arm, "Ah, Valentin!"
she said. "What do you mean to do?"

"To show Mr. Newman the house. It will be very amusing."

She kept her hand on his arm, and turned to Newman with a smile. "Don't
let him take you," she said; "you will not find it amusing. It is a
musty old house, like any other."

"It is full of curious things," said the count, resisting. "Besides, I
want to do it; it is a rare chance."

"You are very wicked, brother," Madame de Cintre answered.

"Nothing venture, nothing have!" cried the young man. "Will you come?"

Madame de Cintre stepped toward Newman, gently clasping her hands and
smiling softly. "Would you not prefer my society, here, by my fire, to
stumbling about dark passages after my brother?"

"A hundred times!" said Newman. "We will see the house some other day."

The young man put down his candlestick with mock solemnity, and, shaking
his head, "Ah, you have defeated a great scheme, sir!" he said.

"A scheme? I don't understand," said Newman.

"You would have played your part in it all the better. Perhaps some day
I shall have a chance to explain it."

"Be quiet, and ring for the tea," said Madame de Cintre.

The young man obeyed, and presently a servant brought in the tea, placed
the tray on a small table, and departed. Madame de Cintre, from her
place, busied herself with making it. She had but just begun when the
door was thrown open and a lady rushed in, making a loud