judge for themselves."

"Yes," I said.

"Of course," said Madame de Clericy quietly, "if you recover
Alphonse's fortune you will earn his gratitude, for without it the
Vicomte would never recognise his pretensions to Lucille's hand."

"Of course," I answered; and Madame's clever eyes were lifted to my
face for a moment.

"You think it the least you can do?"

"I do," said I. "Can you tell me if Alphonse Giraud is in this
house?"

[Illustration: MADAME LOOKED AT ME AGAIN. AND I MADE MY INQUIRIES
ELSEWHERE.]

"No; I cannot."

"Perhaps Mademoiselle Lucille--"

"Perhaps. You can ask her--if you like."

Madame looked at me again. And I made my inquiries elsewhere.

Chapter XII

Ruin

"Il ne faut regarder dans ses amis que la seule vertu qui
nous attache a eux."

If the Baron Giraud was unable in the nature of human affairs to take
his wealth with him, it accompanied him, at all events, to the grave,
where feathers made a fine show of grief, where priests growled
consolatory words, and cherub-faced boys swung themselves and censers
nonchalantly along. Some who owed their wealth to Giraud sent their
empty carriages to mourn his decease; others, with a singular sense of
fitness, despatched wreaths of tin flowers to be laid upon his grave.

The Vicomte had been early astir that morning; indeed, I heard him
moving before daylight in the room where the coffin was. I was glad
when that same morning dawned, for my kind old patron seemed unhinged
by these events, and could not keep away from the apartment where the
Baron lay.

There was, of course, no keeping him from the funeral, which ceremony
I also attended, and if ever earth was laid to earth it was when we
consigned the great financier to his last resting-place. Alphonse
Giraud, in his absurd French way, embraced me when the last carriage
drove away from the gates of Pere la Chaise.

"And now, mon ami," he said, with a sigh of relief, "let us go and
lunch at the club."

He meant no disrespect towards his departed sire. It was merely that
his elastic nature could not always be at a tension. His quick bright
face was made for smiles, and naturally relaxed to that happy state.
He clapped me on the back.

"You are my best friend," he cried.

And I had, indeed, arranged the funeral for him. Those who had
honoured the ceremony with their presence showed much sympathy for
Alphonse. They pressed his hand; some of them embraced him. A
few--