first time with such a tale! I
could have bitten my lips through with vexation.

The cab was called. I saw, but would not see, the winks and nods
exchanged behind my back by the grinning waiters. I flung myself into
the vehicle, and soon was once more rattling through the noisy streets.
But those brilliant streets had now lost all their charm for me. I
admired nothing, saw nothing, heard nothing, on the way. I could think
only of my father's anger and the contempt of Dr. Cheron.

Presently the cab stopped before a large wooden gate with two enormous
knockers. One half of this gate was opened by a servant in a sad-colored
livery. I was shown across a broad courtyard, up a flight of lofty
steps, and into a spacious _salon_ plainly furnished.

"Monsieur le Docteur is at present engaged," said the servant, with an
air of profound respect. "Will Monsieur have the goodness to be seated
for a few moments."

I sat down. I rose up. I examined the books upon the table, and the
pictures on the walls. I wished myself "anywhere, anywhere out of the
world," and more than once was on the point of stealing out of the
house, jumping into my cab, and making off without seeing the doctor at
all. One consideration alone prevented me. I had lost all my money, and
had not even a franc left to pay the driver. Presently the door again
opened, the grave footman reappeared, and I heard the dreaded
announcement:--"Monsieur le Docteur will be happy to receive Monsieur in
his consulting-room."

I followed mechanically. We passed through a passage thickly carpeted,
and paused before a green baize door. This door opened noiselessly, and
I found myself in the great man's presence.

"It gives me pleasure to welcome the son of my old friend John
Arbuthnot," said a clear, and not unfamiliar voice.

I started, looked up, grew red and white, hot and cold, and had not a
syllable to utter in reply.

In Doctor Cheron, I recognised--

PYTHIAS!

CHAPTER XI.

MYSTERIOUS PROCEEDINGS.

The doctor pointed to a chair, looked at his watch, and said:--

"I hope you have had a pleasant journey. Arrived this morning?"

There was not the faintest gleam of recognition on his face. Not a
smile; not a glance; nothing but the easy politeness of a stranger to
a stranger.

"N--not exactly," I faltered. "Yesterday morning, sir."

"Ah, indeed! Spent the day in sight-seeing, I dare say. Admire Paris?"

Too much astonished to speak, I took refuge in a