elf-possession, and nothing could not throw him off
his guard.

"Gaston?" he queried, carelessly. "I know who he is now. He must be the
son of my father's sister, whose husband lived at Havana. I suppose,
upon his return to France, he must have taken his mother's name, which
is more sonorous than his father's, that being, if I recollect aright,
Moirot or Boirot."

The banker laid down his memorandum-book, and, resuming his seat, went
on:

"Boirot or Clameran," said he, "I hope to have the pleasure of inviting
you to dine with him before long. Of the four hundred thousand francs
which I was ordered to collect for him, he only wishes to draw one
hundred, and tells me to keep the rest on running account. I judge from
this that he intends coming to Paris."

"I shall be delighted to make his acquaintance."

Clameran broached another topic, and seemed to have entirely forgotten
the news told him by the banker.

Although apparently engrossed in the conversation of his neighbor at the
table, he closely watched Mme. Fauvel and her niece.

He saw that they were unable to conceal their agitation, and stealthily
exchanged significant looks.

Evidently the same terrible idea had crossed their minds.

Madeleine seemed more nervous and startled than her aunt. When M. Fauvel
uttered Gaston's name, she saw Raoul begin to draw back in his chair and
glance in a frightened manner toward the window, like a detected thief
looking for means of escape.

Raoul, less experienced than his uncle, was thoroughly discountenanced.
He, the original talker, the lion of a dinner-party, never at a loss
for some witty speech, was now perfectly dumb; he sat anxiously watching
Louis.

At last the dinner ended, and as the guests passed into the
drawing-room, Clameran and Raoul managed to remain last in the
dining-room.

When they were alone, they no longer attempted to conceal their anxiety.

"It is he!" said Raoul.

"I have no doubt of it."

"Then all is lost; we had better make our escape."

But a bold adventurer like Clameran had no idea of giving up the ship
till forced to do so.

"Who knows what may happen?" he asked, thoughtfully. "There is hope yet.
Why did not that muddle-headed banker tell us where this Clameran is to
be found?"

Here he uttered a joyful exclamation. He saw M. Fauvel's memorandum-book
lying on the table.

"Watch!" he said to Raoul.

Seizing the note-book, he hurriedly turned over the leaves, and, in an
u