d, and his arm
in a sling, attracted general attention. He was treated with
extraordinary politeness everywhere by the most polite people in the
world. When he asked a question a dozen answers were ready for him--a
dozen officious friends were prepared to escort him anywhere.

But Rupert Hyde wanted no one to teach him his way about Paris. Within
an hour of his arrival, after he had hastily changed the garments he
had worn on the night journey, had sallied forth, and, entering the
long Rue Lafayette, made straight to the headquarters of the 21st
_arrondissement_. Urgent business of a public nature had brought him
to Paris, but this was a private matter which he desired to dispose of
before he attended to anything else.

The place he sought was easily found. It was a plain gateway of
yellowish-white stone, over which hung a brand-new tricolour from a
flag-staff fixed at an angle, and on either side a striped sentry-box
containing a _Garde de Paris_.

The gateway led into a courtyard, in which were half-a-dozen
loungers, clustered chiefly around the entrance to a handsome flight
of stone steps within the building.

Just within this second entrance was a functionary, half beadle, half
hall-porter, wearing a low-crowned cocked hat and a suit of bright
blue cloth plentifully adorned with buttons, to whom Hyde addressed
himself.

"The office of M. the Mayor, if you please."

"Upstairs; take the first turn to the right, and then--"

"But surely I know that voice!" said some one behind Hyde, who had
turned round quickly.

"What, you!" went on the speaker; "my excellent English comrade--here
in Paris! Oh, joyful surprise!"

"Is it you? M. Anatole Belhomme, of the Voltigeurs? You have left the
Crimea? Is Sebastopol taken? the Russians all massacred, then?"

"It is I who was massacred--almost. I received a ball, here in my
leg, and was invalided last month. But you also have suffered,
comrade." And Anatole pointed to Hyde's arm in a sling.

"Nothing much. Only the kick of a horse; it does not prevent me moving
about, as you see."

"But what brings you to Paris, my good friend?"

"I am seeking some family documents--to substantiate an inheritance.
They are here in the archives of the Mairie."

"How? You were seeking the office of M. the Mayor? You?" And M.
Anatole proceeded to scrutinise Hyde slowly and minutely from head to
foot. "You, a veteran with your arm in a sling, and that brown
beard--brown mixed with gr