may leave John Turner to care for his own
affairs. _Il est fin celui-la._"

Again a familiar name fell on my ears, and this was received with
groans and derisive laughter. It was that of the Baron Giraud. I
gathered that there was question of warning certain financiers and
rich persons outside of this circle of some danger known only to the
initiated. Indeed, the wealthy were sending their money out of the
country as fast and as secretly as possible.

"No, no," cried the young man I have mentioned; "the Baron Giraud--a
fine Baron, heaven knows!--has risen with the Empire--nor has he been
over-scrupulous as to whom he trod underfoot. With the Empire he must
fall."

And one and all fell to abusing the Baron Giraud. He was a thief, and
a despoiler of the widow and orphan. His wealth had been acquired not
honestly, but at the expense,--nay, at the ruin--of others. He was an
unwholesome growth of a mushroom age--a bad man, whose god was gold
and gain his only ambition.

"If such men are to grow in France and govern her, then woe to
France," cried one prophetic voice.

Indeed, if half we heard was true of the Baron Giraud, he must have
been a fine scoundrel, and I had little compunction in agreeing that
he deserved no consideration at the hands of honest men. The cooler
heads deemed it wise to withhold from the Baron certain details of the
public feeling, not out of spite, but because such knowledge could not
be trusted in notoriously unscrupulous hands. He would but turn it to
money.

For the greater safety, all present bound themselves upon honour not
to reveal the result of their deliberations to certain named persons,
and the Baron Giraud had the privilege of heading this list. I was
surprised that no form of mutual faith was observed. These men seemed
to trust each other without so much as a word--and indeed, what
stronger tie can men have than the common gain?

"We are not conspirators," said one to me. "Our movements are known."

And he nodded his head in the direction of the Tuileries. I made no
doubt that all, indeed, was known in that quarter, but the fatalist
who planned and schemed there would meet these men the next day with
his gentle smile, betraying nothing.

As my interest became aroused by these proceedings, I became aware of
the Vicomte's close scrutiny. It seemed that he was watching
me--noting the effect of every speech and word.

"You were interested," he said, casually, as we drove home smo