e sign was a dawning gleam of
cunning in the eyes.

"But I have no one I can trust," he said; and I almost laughed, so
well the words bespoke the man. "It is different for you," he added;
"you have--Monsieur."

And he glanced keenly at me. Indeed, we were a queer trio; and I began
to think that I was as big a scoundrel as my maiden aunts maintained.

"I would trust Mr. Howard with all my possessions," said the old
Vicomte, looking at me almost affectionately; "but in this matter I
have found another messenger, less valuable to me personally, less
necessary to my comfort and daily happiness, but equally trustworthy."

"And if I gave him twenty million francs to take abroad for me--?"
suggested the great financier.

"Then, my friend, we should be in the same boat--that is all."

"_Your_ boat," said the Baron, with an unpleasant laugh.

Monsieur de Clericy shrugged his shoulders and smiled. This grave
political crisis had rejuvenated him, and he seemed to rise to meet
each emergency with a buoyancy that sat strangely on white hairs.

They talked together upon the fascinating topic, while I, who had no
part in the game, sat and listened. The Baron was very cunning, and,
as it seemed to me, very contemptible. With all the vices that are
mine, I thank heaven that I have never loved money; for that love, it
seems, undermines much that is manly and honest in upright hearts.
Money, it will be remembered, was at the root of the last quarrel I
had with my father--the last fatal breach, which will have to be
patched up in another world. Money has, as it will be seen by such as
care to follow me through these pages, dogged my life from beginning
to end. I have run my thick head against those pursuing it, each in
his different manner, getting lamentably in their way, and making
deadly enemies for myself.

Monsieur de Clericy, in his frank and open way, gave fuller details of
his own intentions. It seemed that his possessions were at that moment
in the house--in a safe hiding-place; that the messenger was to make
several journeys to London, carrying at one time a sum of money which
would be no very pleasant travelling companion. A safe depository
awaited the sums in England, and, in due course, reinvestment would
follow. Money, it will be suspected, was by now beginning to be
somewhat of a red rag for me, and I thought I saw some signs of its
evil influence over my kindly patron. He spoke of it almost as if
there were nothi