"No, I believe that he had still saved, and even augmented, in India,
the portion he allotted to himself from Madame de Merville's bequest."

"And if he don't play whist, he ought to play it," said Lilburne. "You
have roused my curiosity; I hope you will let me make his acquaintance,
Monsieur de Liancourt. I am no politician, but allow me to propose this
toast, 'Success to those who have the wit to plan, and the strength to
execute.' In other words, 'the Right Divine!'"

Soon afterwards the guests retired.

CHAPTER IV.

"Ros. Happily, he's the second time come to them."--Hamlet.

It was the evening after that in which the conversations recorded in
our last chapter were held;--evening in the quiet suburb of H------. The
desertion and silence of the metropolis in September had extended to
its neighbouring hamlets;--a village in the heart of the country could
scarcely have seemed more still; the lamps were lighted, many of the
shops already closed, a few of the sober couples and retired spinsters
of the place might, here and there, be seen slowly wandering
homeward after their evening walk: two or three dogs, in spite of the
prohibitions of the magistrates placarded on the walls,--(manifestoes
which threatened with death the dogs, and predicted more than ordinary
madness to the public,)--were playing in the main road, disturbed from
time to time as the slow coach, plying between the city and the suburb,
crawled along the thoroughfare, or as the brisk mails whirled rapidly
by, announced by the cloudy dust and the guard's lively horn. Gradually
even these evidences of life ceased--the saunterers disappeared, the
mails had passed, the dogs gave place to the later and more stealthy
perambulations of their feline successors "who love the moon." At
unfrequent intervals, the more important shops--the linen-drapers', the
chemists', and the gin-palace--still poured out across the shadowy
road their streams of light from windows yet unclosed: but with these
exceptions, the business of the place stood still.

At this time there emerged from a milliner's house (shop, to outward
appearance, it was not, evincing its gentility and its degree above the
Capelocracy, to use a certain classical neologism, by a brass plate on
an oak door, whereon was graven, "Miss Semper, Milliner and Dressmaker,
from Madame Devy,")--at this time, I say, and from this house there
emerged the light and graceful form of a young female. She held in