your
satisfaction, that the man's clothes have been thoroughly examined, and
that your watch has not been found. No doubt it lay somewhere on the
table, and was stolen in the confusion."

I hung my head. I could have wept for vexation.

My father laughed sardonically.

"Well, Master Basil," he said, "the loss is yours, and yours only. You
won't get another watch from me, I promise you."

I retorted angrily, whereat he only laughed the more; and then we went
in to breakfast.

Our morning meal was more unsociable than usual. I was too much annoyed
to speak, and my father too preoccupied. I longed to inquire after the
Chevalier, but not choosing to break the silence, hurried through my
breakfast that I might run round to the Red Lion immediately after.
Before we had left the table, a messenger came to say that "the conjuror
was taken worse," and so my father and I hastened away together.

He had passed from his trance-like sleep into a state of delirium, and
when we entered the room was sitting up, pale and ghost-like, muttering
to himself, and gesticulating as if in the presence of an audience.

"_Pas du tout_," said he fantastically, "_pas du tout, Messieurs_--here
is no deception. You shall see him pass from my hand to the _coffre_,
and yet you shall not find how he does travel."

My father smiled bitterly.

"Conjurer to the last!" said he. "In the face of death, what a mockery
is his trade!"

Wandering as were his wits, he caught the last word and turned fiercely
round; but there was no recognition in his eye.

"Trade, Monsieur!" he echoed. "Trade!--you shall not call him trade! Do
you know who I am, that you dare call him trade? _Dieu des Dieux!
N'est-ce pas que je suis noble, moi?_ Trade!--when did one of my race
embrace a trade? _Canaille!_ I do condescend for my reasons to take your
money, but you shall not call him a trade!"

Exhausted by this sudden burst of passion, he fell back upon his pillow,
muttering and flushed. I bent over him, and caught a scattered phrase
from time to time. He was dreaming of wealth, fancying himself rich and
powerful, poor wretch! and all unconscious of his condition.

"You shall see my Chateaux," he said, "my horses--my carriages.
Listen--it is the ringing of the bells. Aha! _le jour viendra--le jour
viendra_! Conjuror! who speaks of a conjuror? I never was a conjuror! I
deny it: and he lies who says it! _Attendons_! Is the curtain up? Ah! my
table--where is my table?