er words so disturbed me
that I did not think of asking. But she will tell me. This evening, if
I don't succeed in obtaining an interview, I will write to her. If your
suspicions are correct, mother, our secret is in the hands of three
persons, and so it is a secret no longer----"

He paused suddenly to listen. The noise of a spirited altercation
between the servant and some visitor, came from the ante-room. "I tell
you that he IS at home," said some one in a panting voice, "and I must
see him and speak with him at once. It is such an urgent matter that I
left a card-party just at the most critical moment to come here."

"I assure you, monsieur, that M. Ferailleur has gone out."

"Very well; I will wait for him, then. Take me to a room where I can sit
down."

Pascal turned pale, for he recognized the voice of the individual who
had suggested searching him at Madame d'Argeles's house. Nevertheless,
he opened the door; and a man, with a face like a full moon, and who was
puffing and panting like a locomotive, came forward with the assurance
of a person who thinks he may do anything he chooses by reason of his
wealth. "Zounds!" he exclaimed. "I knew perfectly well that you
were here. You don't recognize me, perhaps, my dear sir. I am Baron
Trigault--I came to----"

The words died away on his lips, and he became as embarrassed as if he
had not possessed an income of eight hundred thousand francs a year. The
fact is he had just perceived Madame Ferailleur. He bowed to her, and
then, with a significant glance at Pascal he said: "I should like to
speak to you in private, monsieur, in reference to a matter--"

Great as was Pascal's astonishment, he showed none of it on his face.
"You can speak in my mother's presence," he replied, coldly; "she knows
everything."

The baron's surprise found vent in a positive distortion of his
features. "Ah!" said he, in three different tones; "ah! ah!" And as
no one had offered him a seat, he approached an arm-chair and took
possession of it, exclaiming, "You will allow me, I trust? Those stairs
have put me in such a state!"

In spite of his unwieldy appearance, this wealthy man was endowed with
great natural shrewdness and an unusually active mind. And while he
pretended to be engaged in recovering his breath he studied the room
and its occupants. A revolver was lying on the floor beside a torn and
crumpled letter, and tears were still glittering in the eyes of Madame
Ferailleur and