"I fear," said I, "I am engaged all the present week; but I long for
nothing more than to cultivate an acquaintance, seemingly so exactly to
my own taste."

Thornton's grey eyes twinkled. "Will you breakfast with me on Sunday?"
said he.

"I shall be too happy," I replied

There was now a short pause. I took advantage of it. "I think," said
I, "I have seen you once or twice with a tall, handsome man, in a loose
great coat of very singular colour. Pray, if not impertinent, who is he?
I am sure I have seen him before in England."

I looked full upon Thornton as I said this; he changed colour, and
answered my gaze with a quick glance from his small, glittering eye,
before he replied. "I scarcely know who you mean, my acquaintance is so
large and miscellaneous at Paris. It might have been Johnson, or Smith,
or Howard, or any body, in short."

"It is a man nearly six feet high," said I, "thin, and remarkably well
made, of a pale complexion, light eyes, and very black hair, mustachios
and whiskers. I saw him with you once in the Bois de Boulogne, and once
in a hell in the Palais Royal. Surely, now you will recollect who he
is?"

Thornton was evidently disconcerted. "Oh!" said he, after a short pause,
and another of his peculiarly quick, sly glances--"Oh, that man; I have
known him a very short time. What is his name? let me see!" and
Mr. Thornton affected to look down in a complete reverie of dim
remembrances.

I saw, however, that, from time to time, his eye glanced up to me, with
a restless, inquisitive expression, and as instantly retired.

"Ah," said I, carelessly, "I think I know who he is!"

"Who!" cried Thornton, eagerly, and utterly off his guard.

"And yet," I pursued, without noticing the interruption, "it scarcely
can be--the colour of the hair is so very different."

Thornton again appeared to relapse into his recollections.
"War--Warbur--ah, I have it now!" cried he, "Warburton--that's
it--that's the name--is it the one you supposed, Mr. Pelham?"

"No," said I, apparently perfectly satisfied. "I was quite mistaken.
Good morning, I did not think it was so late. On Sunday, then, Mr.
Thornton--au plaisir!"

"A d--d cunning dog!" said I to myself, as I left the apartments.
"However, on peut-etre trop fin. I shall have him yet."

The surest way to make a dupe is to let you victim suppose you are his

CHAPTER XXIV.

Voila de l'erudition.--Les Femmes Savantes.

I found, on my return, covered w