from using an epithet
which would have led to an affray, or at least a scandalous scene.

The clown stood by with a sardonic smile, and, after a moment's silence,
stared M. de Clameran steadily in the face, and in measured tones said:

"I was the best friend, monsieur, that your brother Gaston ever had. I
was his adviser, and the confidant of his last wishes."

These few words fell like a clap of thunder upon De Clameran.

He turned deadly pale, and stared back with his hands stretched out
before him, as if shrinking from a phantom.

He tried to answer, to protest against this assertion, but the words
froze on his lips. His fright was pitiable.

"Come, let us go," said Lagors, who was perfectly cool.

And he dragged Clameran away, half supporting him, for he staggered like
a drunken man, and clung to every object he passed, to prevent falling.

"Oh," exclaimed the clown, in three different tones, "oh, oh!"

He himself was almost as much astonished as the forge-master, and
remained rooted to the spot, watching the latter as he slowly left the
room.

It was with no decided object in view that he had ventured to use the
last mysteriously threatening words, but he had been inspired to do
so by his wonderful instinct, which with him was like the scent of a
blood-hound.

"What can this mean?" he murmured. "Why was he so frightened? What
terrible memory have I awakened in his base soul? I need not boast of my
penetration, or the subtlety of my plans. There is a great master, who,
without any effort, in an instant destroys all my chimeras; he is called
'Chance.'"

His mind had wandered far from the present scene, when he was brought
back to his situation by someone touching him on the shoulder. It was
the man in the Venetian cloak.

"Are you very satisfied, M. Verduret?" he inquired.

"Yes, and no, M. the Count. No, because I have not completely achieved
the object I had in view when I asked you for an invitation here
to-night; yes, because these two rascals behaved in a manner which
dispels all doubt."

"And yet you complain--"

"I do not complain, M. the Count: on the contrary, I bless chance, or
rather Providence, which has just revealed to me the existence of a
secret that I did not before even suspect."

Five or six people approached the count, and he went off with them after
giving the clown a friendly nod.

The latter instantly threw aside his banner, and started in pursuit of
Mme. Fauvel. He found