tudy types--saw
Maurice de Presle-Vaulx just leaving the Casino.

Bulstrode's air was as friendly and as naive as though he had not a
pretty clear idea of just how the tide of events was fluctuating toward
misfortune in the case of this young nobleman.

"What do you say," he suggested, "to getting something to drink or eat?
What do you say to a piece of _perdreau_ and some champagne?"

The Frenchman followed the older man, who in contrast to his pallor
looked the picture of health and spirits. Bulstrode cheerily led him
to a small table in the corner of the restaurant, where they sat
opposite one another, and for a little time applied themselves in
silence to the light supper served them.

The Marquis drank more than he ate, and Bulstrode dutifully finished
the game and toast, quite glad, in truth, to break the fast of a long
evening which he had spent in the close rooms: for no other reason than
unseen, to befriend--and unasked, to chaperone Molly's lover. Finally,
when he felt that the right moment to say something had come, he smiled
at the young man, and said frankly:

"Voyons, mon ami, don't you feel that you can talk to me a little more
freely than you could possibly to even so kind and charming a friend as
Mrs. Falconer? We are not of the same race, perhaps, but then under
certain circumstances such distinctions are not important. How do
you"--he handled the words as though in presenting them to the young
man he was afraid they might prick him--"How do _you_ now stand?--I
mean to say, the luck has been rather against you, I'm afraid."

Bulstrode would never be so near forty again, and De Presle-Vaulx was a
spoiled child--at all events, all that could be spoiled in him had been
taken care of by his mother, and in his own way he had spoiled a large
part of what remained. He looked up smartly, for he had been following
the pattern of the table-cloth. If the frankness of the other
threatened to offend him, as he met the kind eyes of the American he
found nothing there that could do otherwise than please him. He
shrugged with his national habit, then threw out his hands without
making any verbal reply, but his smile and his gesture comprehended so
much that Bulstrode intelligently exclaimed:

"Oh, but you don't mean to _say_----?"

"I have not, monsieur, much to lose," the scion of an old house replied
simply. "We have the reputation of being poor; but to-night and last
night have quite 'wiped me out,