ndre and
my good mother, they are my supports, my crutches, and with them I'm not
afraid of making a false step." Schebel, the German philosopher, who has
written a treatise on Volition, in four volumes, was no greater a man
than Chupin. "So you may keep your money, sir," he resumed. "I'm an
honest fellow, and honest men ought to ask no reward for the performance
of a duty. Coralth mustn't be allowed to triumph over the innocent chap
he ruined. What did you call him? Ferailleur? It's an odd name. Never
mind--we'll get him out of this scrape; he shall marry his sweetheart
after all; and I'll dance at the wedding."

As he finished speaking he laughed a shrill, dangerous laugh, which
revealed his sharp teeth--but such invincible determination was apparent
on his face, that M. Fortunat felt no misgivings. He was sure that this
volunteer would be of more service than the highest-priced hireling. "So
I can count on you, Victor?" he inquired.

"As upon yourself."

"And you hope to have some positive information by Tuesday?"

"Before then, I hope, if nothing goes amiss."

"Very well; I will devote my attention to Ferailleur then. As to
Valorsay's affairs, I am better acquainted with them than he is himself.
We must be prepared to enter upon the campaign when Mademoiselle
Marguerite comes, and we will act in accordance with her instructions."

Chupin had already caught up his hat; but just as he was leaving the
room, he paused abruptly. "How stupid!" he exclaimed. "I had forgotten
the principal thing. Where does Coralth live?"

"Unfortunately, I don't know."

According to his habit when things did not go to his liking, Chupin
began to scratch his head furiously. "That's bad," growled he.
"Viscounts of his stamp don't parade their addresses in the directory.
Still, I shall find him." However, although he expressed this conviction
he went off decidedly out of temper.

"I shall lose the entire evening hunting up the rascal's address," he
grumbled, as he hastened homeward. "And whom shall I ask for it?--Madame
d'Argeles's concierge? Would he know it--M. Wilkie's servant? That
would be dangerous." He thought of roaming sound about M. de Valorsay's
residence, and of bribing one of the valets; but while crossing the
boulevard, the sight of Brebant's Restaurant put a new idea into his
head. "I have it!" he muttered; "my man's caught!" And he darted into
the nearest cafe where he ordered some beer and writing materials.

Unde