write to Beaucaire. I will do so to-morrow."

Louis made no reply.

Men of his character, when brought face to face with imminent danger,
always weigh their words, and say as little as possible, for fear of
committing themselves by some indiscreet remark.

Above all things, Louis was careful to avoid raising any objections
to his brother's proposed trip to Paris. To oppose the wishes of a
determined man has the effect of making him adhere more closely to them.
Each argument is like striking a nail with a hammer. Knowing this, Louis
changed the conversation, and nothing more during the day was said of
Valentine or Paris.

At night, alone in his room, he brought his cunning mind to bear upon
the difficulties of his situation, and wondered by what means he could
extricate himself.

At first the case seemed hopeless, desperate. During twenty years, Louis
had been at war with society, trusted by none, living upon his wits,
and the credulity of foolish men enabling him to gain an income without
labor; and, though he generally attained his ends, it was not without
great danger and constant dread of detection.

He had been caught at the gaming-table with his hands full of duplicate
cards; he had been tracked all over Europe by the police, and obliged to
fly from city to city under an assumed name; he had sold to cowards his
skilful handling of the sword and pistol; he had been repeatedly thrown
into prison, and always made his escape. He had braved everything, and
feared nothing. He had often conceived and carried out the most criminal
plans, without the slightest hesitation or remorse. And now here he sat,
utterly bewildered, unable to think clearly; his usual impudence and
ready cunning seemed to have deserted him.

Thus driven to the wall, he saw no means of escape, and was almost
tempted to confess all, and throw himself upon his brother's clemency.
Then he thought that it would be wiser to borrow a large sum from
Gaston, and fly the country.

Vainly did he think over the wicked experiences of the past: none of the
former successful stratagems could be resorted to in the present case.

Fatally, inevitably, he was about to be caught in a trap laid by
himself.

The future was fraught with danger, worse than danger--ruin and
disgrace.

He had to fear the wrath of M. Fauvel, his wife and niece. Gaston would
have speedy vengeance the moment he discovered the truth; and Raoul,
his accomplice, would certainly turn ag