round to the railway
station and taken a ticket to any haven of refuge he might have
fancied?

"For the simple reason," said he, with a gay laugh, "that I haven't a
single penny piece in the world."

He looked so prosperous and untroubled that I stared incredulously.

"Not one tiny bronze sou," said he.

"You seem to take it pretty philosophically," said I.

"_Les gueux, les gueux, sont des gens heureux_," he quoted.

"You're the first person who has made me believe in the happiness of
beggars."

"In time I shall make you believe in lots of things," he retorted. "No.
I hadn't one sou to buy a ticket, and Amelie never left me. I spent my
last franc on the journey from Carcassonne to Aigues-Mortes. Amelie
insisted on accompanying me. She was taking no chances. Her eyes never
left me from the time we started. When I ran to your assistance she was
watching me from a house on the other side of the _place_. She came to
the hotel while we were lunching. I thought I would slip away unnoticed
and join you after you had made the _tour des remparts_. But no. I must
present her to my English friend. And then--_voyons_--didn't I tell you
I never lost a visiting-card? Look at this?"

He dived into his pocket, produced the letter-case, and extracted a
card.

"_Voila._"

I read: "The Duke of Wiltshire."

"But, good heavens, man," I cried, "that's not the card I gave you."

"I know it isn't," said he; "but it's the one I showed to Amelie."

"How on earth," I asked, "did you come by the Duke of Wiltshire's
visiting-card?"

He looked at me roguishly.

"I am--what do you call it?--a--a 'snapper up of unconsidered trifles.'
You see I know my Shakespeare. I read 'The Winter's Tale' with some
French pupils to whom I was teaching English. I love Autolycus. _C'est
un peu moi, hein?_ Anyhow, I showed the Duke's card to Amelie."

I began to understand. "That was why you called me 'monseigneur'?"

"Naturally. And I told her that you were my English patron, and would
give me four thousand francs as a wedding present if I accompanied you
to your agent's at Montpellier, where you could draw the money. Ah! But
she was suspicious! Yesterday I borrowed a bicycle. A friend left it in
the courtyard. I thought, 'I will creep out at dead of night, when
everyone's asleep, and once on my _petite bicyclette, bonsoir la
compagnie_.' But, would you believe it? When I had dressed and crept
down, and tried to mount the bicycle, I found both