ressed in black. She had a large Russia-leather
travelling-bag."

"I took her," answered one of the drivers promptly. M. Fortunat advanced
toward the man with open arms, and with such eagerness that it might
have been supposed he meant to embrace him. "Ah, my worthy fellow!" he
exclaimed, "you can save my life!"

The driver looked exceedingly pleased. He was thinking that this
gentleman would certainly requite his salvation by a magnificent
gratuity. "What do you want of me?" he asked.

"Tell me where you drove this lady?"

"I took her to the Rue de Berry."

"To what number?"

"Ah, I can't tell. I've forgotten it."

But M. Fortunat no longer felt any anxiety. "Very good," said he.
"You've forgotten it--that's not at all strange. But you would know the
house again, wouldn't you?"

"Undoubtedly I should."

"Will you take me there?"

"Certainly, sir. This is my vehicle."

The hunter of missing heirs at once climbed inside; but it was not until
the carriage had left the courtyard that the landlord returned to his
office. "That man must be a detective," he remarked to his wife.

"So I fancy."

"It's strange we're not acquainted with him. He must be a new member of
the force."

But M. Fortunat was quite indifferent as to what impression he had left
behind him at the Hotel de Homburg, for he never expected to set foot
there again. The one essential thing was that he had obtained the
information he wished for, and even a description of the lady, and he
felt that he was now really on the track. The vehicle soon reached the
Rue de Berry, and drew up in front of a charming little private house.
"Here we are, monsieur," said the driver, bowing at the door.

M. Fortunat sprang nimbly on to the pavement, and handed five francs
to the coachman, who went off growling and swearing, for he thought the
reward a contemptibly small one, coming as it did from a man whose life
had been saved, according to his own confession. However, the person the
Jehu anathematized certainly did not hear him. Standing motionless where
he had alighted, M. Fortunat scrutinized the house in front of him with
close attention. "So she lives here," he muttered. "This is the place;
but I can't present myself without knowing her name. I must make some
inquiries."

There was a wine-shop some fifty paces distant, and thither M. Fortunat
hastened, and ordered a glass of currant syrup. As he slowly sipped
the beverage, he pointed to the house in q