as a gentleman with her, who wore moustaches, and had taken a part in
the proceedings at first, by addressing the carmen in French. This was
too much, and the mob declared he was Don Carlos.

'You are too good,' said the lady, with a sweet expression.

[Illustration: page152]

Tancred opened the door of the chariot, the policemen pulled down the
steps, the servants were told to do the best they could with the wrecked
equipage; in a second the lady and her companion were in Tancred's
brougham, who, desiring his servants to obey all their orders,
disappeared, for the stoppage at this moment began to move, and there
was no time for bandying compliments.

He had gained the pavement, and had made his way as far as the Mansion
House, when, finding a group of public buildings, he thought it prudent
to inquire which was the Bank.

'That is the Bank,' said a good-natured man, in a bustle, but taken by
Tancred's unusual appearance. 'What do you want? I am going there.'

'I do not want exactly the Bank,' replied Tancred, 'but a place
somewhere near it. Do you happen to know, sir, a place called Sequin
Court?'

'I should think I did,' said the man, smiling. 'So you are going to
Sidonia's?'

CHAPTER XVII.

_The Wizard of Fortune_

TANCRED entered Sequin Court; a chariot with a foreign coronet was at
the foot of the great steps which he ascended. He was received by a fat
hall porter, who would not have disgraced his father's establishment,
and who, rising with lazy insolence from his hooded chair, when he
observed that Tancred did not advance, asked the new comer what
he wanted. 'I want Monsieur de Sidonia.' 'Can't see him now; he is
engaged.' 'I have a note for him.'

'Very well, give it me; it will be sent in. You can sit here.' And the
porter opened the door of a waiting-room, which Tancred declined to
enter. 'I will wait here, thank you,' said Tancred, and he looked round
at the old oak hall, on the walls of which were hung several portraits,
and from which ascended one of those noble staircases never found in a
modern London mansion. At the end of the hall, on a slab of porphyry,
was a marble bust, with this inscription on it, '_Fundator_.' It was the
first Sidonia, by Chantrey.

'I will wait here, thank you,' said Tancred, looking round; and then,
with some hesitation, he added, 'I have an appointment here at two
o'clock.'

As he spoke, that hour sounded from the belfry of an old city church
that wa