the work, and from whom he received much praise and
encouragement.

"You are," he said, when the books were all in order and the accounts
audited, "a precious acquisition to the saints among whom you live. Two
or three hours a day will now suffice to keep the current accounts in
order, and you will have plenty of surplus time to help the work in
other ways, if you still have the vocation you showed for it six months
ago."

It was now July, 1838. During the time that had elapsed since his
opening attempt on the boulevard du Mont-Parnasse, Godefroid, eager
to prove himself worthy of his friends, had refrained from asking any
question relating to Baron Bourlac. Not hearing a single word on the
subject, and finding no record of any transaction concerning it in the
accounts, he regarded the silence maintained about the enemy of Madame
de la Chanterie and his family either as a test to which he himself was
subjected, or as a proof that the friends of the noble woman had in some
way avenged her.

Some two months after he had left Madame Vauthier's lodgings he turned
his steps when out for a walk towards the boulevard du Mont-Parnasse,
where he came upon the widow herself, and asked for news of the Bernard
family.

"Just as if I knew what has become of them!" she replied. "Two days
after your departure--for it was you, slyboots, who got the affair away
from my proprietor--some men came here and rid me of that arrogant old
fool and all his belongings. Bless me! if they didn't move everything
out within twenty-four hours; and as close as wax they were too; not a
word would they say to me. I think he went off to Algiers with his rogue
of a grandson; for Nepomucene, who had a fancy for that young thief,
being no better himself, couldn't find him at the Conciergerie. I dare
say Nepomucene knows where he is, though, for he, too, has run away.
That's what it is to bring up foundlings! that's how they reward you for
all your trouble, leaving you in the lurch! I haven't yet been able to
get a man in his place, and as the quarter is looking up the house is
full, and I am worked to death."

Godefroid would never have known more about Baron Bourlac and his family
if it had not been for one of those chance encounters such as often
happens in Paris.

In the month of September he was walking down the great avenue of the
Champs Elysees, thinking, as he passed the end of the rue Marbeuf, of
Dr. Halpersohn.

"I might," thought he, "go