at once went to inquire if the agreement which M. Wilkie
had just signed would be binding. The lawyer whom he consulted replied
that, at all events, a reasonable compensation would most probably be
granted by the courts, in case of any difficulty; and he suggested
a little plan which was a chef d'oeuvre in its way, at the same time
advising his client to strike the iron while it was hot.

It was not yet noon, and the viscount determined to act upon the
suggestion at once; he now bitterly regretted the delay he had
specified. "I must find Wilkie at once," he said to himself. But he did
not succeed in meeting him until the evening, when he found him at the
Cafe Riche--and in what a condition too! The two bottles of wine which
the young fool had drank at dinner had gone to his head, and he was
enumerating, in a loud voice, the desires he meant to gratify as soon
as he came into possession of his millions. "What a brute!" thought the
enraged viscount. "If I leave him to himself, no one knows what foolish
thing he may do or say. I must remain with him until he becomes sober
again."

So he followed him to the theatre, and thence to Brebant's, where he was
sitting feeling terribly bored, when M. Wilkie conceived the unfortunate
idea of inviting Victor Chupin to come up and take some refreshment. The
scene which followed greatly alarmed the viscount. Who could this young
man be? He did not remember having ever seen him before, and yet the
young scamp was evidently well acquainted with his past life, for he had
cast the name of Paul in his face, as a deadly insult. Surely this was
enough to make the viscount shudder! How did it happen that this young
man had been just on the spot ready to pick up Wilkie's hat? Was it mere
chance? Certainly not. He could not believe it. Then why was the
fellow there? Evidently to watch somebody. And whom? Why,
him--Coralth--undoubtedly.

In going through life as he had done, a man makes enemies at every step;
and he had an imposing number of foes, whom he only held in check by
his unbounded impudence and his renown as a duellist. Thus it was not
strange if some one had set a snare for him; it was rather a miracle
that he had not fallen into one before. The dangers that threatened him
were so formidable that he was almost tempted to relinquish his attack
on Madame d'Argeles. Was it prudent to incur the risk of making this
woman an enemy? All Sunday he hesitated. It would be very easy to get
ou