ime went on. I had asked Mr. Fox and Canthorpe to dine
with me at the Fleur-de-Pois, outside the barrier. It was a celebrated
restaurant of those times, as distinguished for the excellence of its
wine as the perfection of its cookery. I had often given myself the
airs of connoisseurship in these matters, and I was resolved that my
entertainment should not disparage my taste.

More than one morning had I passed in council over the bill of fare,
discussing the order of the courses, canvassing the appropriate sauces,
and tasting the various wines. It was to be a "Diner a soixante francs
par tete;" the reader may imagine the rest. I knew that my friends were
unacquainted with the repute this house enjoyed, and I congratulated
myself in fancying the surprise they would feel at the unexpected
perfection of every arrangement within doors. I went down early on the
morning of the eventful day to see that everything was in readiness. All
was perfect; the table was decorated with the choicest flowers, amidst
which an ornamental dessert lay scattered, as it were. The temperature
of the room, the lighting, all were cared for; and I returned to Paris
fully satisfied that nothing had been omitted or forgotten. Instead,
however, of repairing to my hotel, I went to a small restaurant near the
Luxembourg to breakfast, and lounged afterwards at the gardens there,
intending to keep myself "up" for the evening, and not dissipate any
of those conversational resources I wished to hoard for the hours of
conviviality. The reader may well smile at the inconsistency of the man
who could so collectedly devise a few hours of pleasure, and yet face
the whole future without a moment's thought or deliberation! Towards
five o'clock I sauntered slowly back to the hotel.

"A note for you, sir," said the porter, presenting me with a letter as
I entered. "The gentleman said it was to be given to you the moment you
came in."

I took it with a strange, half-sickening sense of coming evil. I broke
the seal, and read:--

Crillan, Three o'clock. Dear C,--We are off for England at
a moment's warning, and have only time to counsel you to the
same. There is some mischief brewing, and the d----d Tories
are likely to involve us in another war. Keep this to
yourself. Get your passport ready, and let us soon see you
across the water. With many regrets from F. and myself at
the loss of your good dinner to-day, believe me
Yours truly,

George Ca