get some sleep," he said. "You may have little
time for rest in Paris."

"And you?" I asked.

"It is another matter," he answered. "I am accustomed to sleeping very
little; and besides, it is probable that this affair may become one
which it will be necessary for you to follow up alone. The sight of me,
or the mention of my name, is like poison to all the Waldenburgs. They
would only be the more bitter and hard to deal with if they knew that I,
too, had joined in the chase. I hope to be able to do my share
secretly."

I followed his suggestion, and slept more or less fitfully all the way
to Paris. I was awakened to find that the train had come to a
standstill. We were already in the station, and as I hastily collected
my belongings I saw that Feurgeres had left me, and was standing on the
platform talking earnestly to a pale, dark young Frenchman, sombrely
dressed and of insignificant appearance. I joined him just as his
companion departed. He turned towards me with a peculiar smile.

"My apologies to the Princess," he said. "The address is correct. They
have gone to a suite of rooms belonging to the Baron von Leibingen."

"They are there still, then?" I exclaimed.

"They are there still," Feurgeres assented, "and they show no immediate
signs of moving on. They are apparently waiting for someone--perhaps for
the Princess Adelaide. Inside the house and out they are being closely
watched, and directly their plans are made I shall know of them."

I looked, as I felt, a little surprised. Feurgeres smiled.

"I am at home here," he said, "and I have friends. Come! My own
apartments are scarcely a stone's-throw away from the Rue Henriette.
Estere will see our things safely through the Customs."

We drove through the cold grey twilight to the Rue de St. Antoine, where
Feurgeres' apartments were. To my surprise servants were at hand
expecting us, and I was shown at once into a suite of rooms, in one of
which was a great marble bath all ready for use. Some coffee and a
change of clothes were brought me. All my wants seemed to have been
anticipated and provided for. I had always imagined Feurgeres to be a
man of very simple and homely tastes, but there were no traces of it in
his home. He showed me some of the rooms while we waited for breakfast,
rooms handsomely furnished and decorated, full of art treasures and
curios of many sorts collected from many countries.

But, in a sense, it was like a dead house. One felt th