Rue du Helder." "Remain," whispered Avarice;
"and, since you have accomplished so much, finish your work. M. Fortunat
won't pay for conjectures, but for a certainty."

Love of money carried the day; so, weaving an interminable chaplet of
oaths, he followed the party until they entered Brebant's restaurant,
one of the best known establishments which remain open at night-time. It
was nearly two o'clock in the morning now; the boulevard was silent and
deserted, and yet this restaurant was brilliantly lighted from top to
bottom, and snatches of song and shouts of laughter, with the clatter
of knives and forks and the clink of glasses, could be heard through the
half opened windows.

"Eight dozen Marennes for No. 6," shouted a waiter to the man who opened
oysters near the restaurant door.

On hearing this order, Chupin shook his clenched fist at the stars. "The
wretches!" he muttered through his set teeth; "bad luck to them! Those
oysters are for their mouths, plainly enough, for there are eight of
them in all, counting those yellow-haired women. They will, no doubt,
remain at table until six o'clock in the morning. And they call this
enjoying themselves. And meanwhile, poor little Chupin must wear out his
shoe-leather on the pavement. Ah! they shall pay for this!"

It ought to have been some consolation to him to see that he was not
alone in his misery, for in front of the restaurant stood a dozen cabs
with sleepy drivers, who were waiting for chance to send them one of
those half-intoxicated passengers who refuse to pay more than fifteen
sous for their fare, but give their Jehu a gratuity of a louis. All
these vehicles belonged to the peculiar category known as "night
cabs"--dilapidated conveyances with soiled, ragged linings, and drawn by
half-starved, jaded horses.

However, Chupin neither thought of these vehicles, nor of the poor
horses, nor, indeed, of the drivers themselves. His wrath had been
succeeded by philosophical resignation; he accepted with good grace what
he could not avoid. As the night air had become very cool, he turned up
the collar of his overcoat, and began to pace to and fro on the pavement
in front of the restaurant. He had made a hundred turns perhaps, passing
the events of the day in review, when suddenly such a strange and
startling idea flashed across his mind that he stood motionless, lost
in astonishment. Reflecting on the manner in which M. Wilkie and the
Viscount de Coralth had behaved