during the evening, a singular suspicion
assailed him. While M. Wilkie gradually lost his wits, M. de Coralth
had become remarkably cold and reserved. He had seemed to oppose all M.
Wilkie's propositions; but he had agreed to them at last, so that his
objections had produced much the same effect as a stimulant. It seemed
then as if M. de Coralth had some strange interest in wishing to gain
ascendency over his friend. At least such was Chupin's opinion. "Oh,
oh!" he murmured. "What if HE should be working up the same little
scheme? What if he were acquainted with Madame Lia d'Argeles? What if he
knew that there's a fortune waiting for a claimant? I shouldn't at all
be surprised if I found that he wanted to cook his bread in our oven.
But father Fortunat wouldn't be pleased with the news. Ah! no--he
wouldn't even smile----"

While carrying on this little conversation with himself, he stood just
in front of the restaurant, looking up into the air, when all of a
sudden a window was thrown noisily open, and the figures of two men
became plainly visible. They were engaged in a friendly struggle; one of
them seemed to be trying to seize hold of something which the other had
in his hand, and which he refused to part with. One of these men was M.
Wilkie as Chupin at once perceived. "Good!" he said to himself; "this is
the beginning of the end!"

As he spoke, M. Wilkie's hat fell on the window-sill, slipped off, and
dropped on to the pavement below. With a natural impulse Chupin picked
it up, and he was turning it over and over in his hands, when M. Wilkie
leant out of the window and shouted in a voice that was thick with wine:
"Halloo! Eh, there! Who picked up my hat? Honesty shall be rewarded. A
glass of champagne and a cigar for the fellow who'll bring it me in room
No. 6."

Chupin hesitated. By going up, he might, perhaps, compromise the success
of his mission. But on the other hand his curiosity was aroused, and
he very much wished to see, with his own eyes, how these young men were
amusing themselves. Besides, he would have an opportunity of examining
this handsome viscount, whom he was certain he had met before, though he
could not tell when or where. In the meantime, M. Wilkie had perceived
him.

"Come, you simpleton!" he cried; "make haste. You can't be very
thirsty."

The thought of the viscount decided Chupin. Entering the restaurant
and climbing the staircase, he had just reached the landing when a
pale-looking