rey."

The Marquis immediately gave orders that he be admitted, and a sharp,
wiry-looking fellow, wearing the de Vaudrey livery, stood before the
gay party.

"Most excellent Marquis and most beautiful ladies," he said to the
general mirth as he curtsied low and executed a neat pas seul, "my
master the Chevalier is very late, but he will surely appear."

"Late?" protested one of the young blades who knew the Prefect's
nephew. "Why, he told me he expected to be here early."

"Alas, detained by business--" replied Picard in a melancholy tone.

"Business! A young nobleman has no business!"

"It is so, gentlemen. Some nights, I grant you, he devotes to
pleasure, as a young aristocrat should; but his days--how do you
suppose he spends his days?"

"Sleeps, of course," said the Marquis, in a positive tone.

"Gentlemen, allow me to tell you confidentially," said the valet
mysteriously as the gentlemen gathered around him, fully expecting to
hear of some treason. "He works! actually works! He sits down and
reads and writes as though he were an advocate."

CHAPTER V

BEL-AIR--(CONTINUED)

"Bah!" exclaimed one. "You don't expect us to believe that?"

"Yes, and more, too," answered Picard, who enjoyed immensely being
able to impart some information to his superiors. "Why, how do you
suppose he acts to the common people who want to see him? His
creditors, for instance?"

"Why, if they are importunate, he beats them, I suppose," answered de
Praille, who often "settled" bills thus.

"Yes, he beats them," sneered Picard; "he pays them! Yes, gentlemen,
he pays his tradespeople." And the valet surveyed the group, enjoying
the surprise he had given them.

"Oh, the poor fellow is lost!" exclaimed one of the party, who at the
age of twenty had spent a large fortune and was now living on his
wits.

"Completely," affirmed Picard, "and all owing to the company he keeps.
He won't be guided by me--"

"The Chevalier Maurice de Vaudrey!"

Picard's further revelations were cut short by the entry of his master
who dismissed the valet and presented his apologies to the company.

In any assemblage the young Chevalier of twenty-two might have been
remarked for his Greek God features and the occasional smile that made
him look, from time to time, a veritable bright Phoebus Apollo.

He was far handsomer, far more attractive than the host, but a
young-old cynic about these goings-on. Nephew of the police prefect of
Paris,