ke
informed me that he could prove the identity of the boy by certain
scars."

"Scars? And of what kind, pray?"

"Now you are asking me too much. I do not know."

On receiving this reply, Tantaine rose hastily from his chair, and thus
concealed his agitation from his companion.

"I have a hundred apologies to make for taking up so much of your
valuable time. My master has got it into his head that you were after
the same game as ourselves. He was mistaken, and now we leave the field
clear to you."

Before Perpignan could make any reply, the old man had passed through
the doorway. On the threshold he paused, and said,--

"Were I in your place, I would stick to my first plan. You will never
find the boy, but you will get several thousand francs out of the Duke,
which I am sure will come in handy."

"There are scars now, then," muttered Tantaine, as he moved away from
the house, "and that Master Catenac never said a word about them!"

CHAPTER XXIII.

FATHER AND SON.

Two hours after Andre had left the Avenue de Matignon, one of Mascarin's
most trusty emissaries was at his heels, who could watch his actions
with the tenacity of a bloodhound. Andre, however, now that he had heard
of Sabine's convalescence, had entirely recovered the elasticity of his
spirits, and would never have noticed that he was being followed. His
heart, too, was much rejoiced at the friendship of M. de Breulh and the
promise of assistance from the Viscountess de Bois Arden; and with the
assistance of these two, he felt that he could end his difficulties.

"I must get to work again," muttered he, as he left M. de Breulh's
hospitable house. "I have already lost too much time. To-morrow, if you
look up at the scaffolding of a splendid house in the Champs Elysees,
you will see me at work."

Andre was busy all night with his plans for the rich contractor, M.
Gandelu, who wanted as much ornamental work on the outside of his house
as he had florid decorations within. He rose with the lark, and having
gazed for a moment on Sabine's portrait, started for the abode of M.
Gandelu, the proud father of young Gaston. This celebrated contractor
lived in a splendid house in the Rue Chasse d'Antin, until his more
palatial residence should be completed.

When Andre presented himself at the door, an old servant, who knew him
well, strongly urged him not to go up.

"Never," said he, "in all the time that I have been with master, have I
seen him in s