lkie from his bed, but the
name his servant mentioned seemed to have a prodigious effect upon
him. He bounded on to the floor, and as he hastily dressed himself, he
muttered: "The viscount here, at this hour! It's astonishing! What if
he's going to fight a duel and wishes me to be his second? That would be
a piece of grand good luck and no mistake. It would assure my position
at once. Certainly something must have happened!"

This last remark was by no means a proof of any remarkable perspicuity
on M. Wilkie's part. As M. de Coralth never went to bed until two or
three o'clock in the morning, he was by no means an early riser,
and only some very powerful reason could explain the presence of his
blue-lined brougham in the street before nine o'clock A.M. And the
influence that had made him rise betimes in the present case had indeed
been extremely powerful. Although the brilliant viscount had discovered
Madame d'Argeles's secret, several months previously, he had so far
disclosed it to no one. It was certainly not from any delicacy of
feeling that he had held his peace; but only because it had not been for
his interest to speak. Now, however, the sudden death of the Count de
Chalusse changed the situation. He heard of the catastrophe at his club
on the evening after the count's death, and his emotion was so great
that he actually declined to take part in a game of baccarat that was
just beginning. "The devil!" he exclaimed. "Let me think a moment.
Madame d'Argeles is the heiress of all these millions--will she come
forward and claim them? From what I know of her, I am inclined to think
that she won't. Will she ever go to Wilkie and confess that she, Lia
d'Argeles, is a Chalusse, and that he is her illegitimate son? Never!
She would rather relinquish her millions, both for herself and for
him, than take such a step. She is so ridiculously antiquated in her
notions." And then he began to study what advantages he might derive
from his knowledge of the situation.

M. de Coralth, like all persons whose present is more or less uncertain,
had great misgivings concerning his future. Just now he was cunning
enough to find a means of procuring the thirty or forty thousand francs
a year that were indispensable to his comfort; but he had not a farthing
laid by, and the vein of silver he was now working might fail him at any
moment. The slightest indiscretion, the least blunder, might hurl him
from his splendor into the mire. The per