with colored glasses, while the other was stout and ruddy,
with the unmistakable air of a man of the world about him. Andre would
have given the twenty thousand francs which he still had in his pocket
if he could have heard a single word of their conversation. He was
moving skilfully forward so as to place himself within earshot, when not
two feet from him he heard a shrill whistle twice repeated. There was
something so strange and curious in the sound of this whistle that Andre
looked round and noticed that the three men whom he was watching had
been also attracted by it. The tall man with the colored glasses glanced
suspiciously around him, and then after a nod to his companions turned
and re-entered the office, while Verminet and the other walked away arm
in arm. Andre was undecided; should he try and discover who these two
men were? Near the entrance he saw a lad selling hot chestnuts. "Ah!"
said he, "the little chestnut seller will always be there; but I may
lose the others if I stay here." He followed the two men as quickly as
possible. They did not go very far, and speedily entered a fine house in
the Rue Montmartre. Here Andre was for a moment puzzled, as he did not
know to whom they were paying a visit, but noticing an inscription on
the wall of "Cashier's Office on the first floor," he exclaimed,--

"Ah! it is to the banker's they have gone!"

He questioned a man coming downstairs and heard that M. Martin Rigal,
the banker, had his offices and residence there.

"I have struck a vein of good luck to-day," thought he; "and now if my
little friend the chestnut seller can only tell me the names of these
men, I have done a good day's work. I _do_ hope that he has not gone."

The boy was still there, and he had two customers standing by the
chafing-dish which contained the glowing charcoal, and a working lad
in cap and blouse was arguing so hotly with the lad that they did not
notice Andre's appearance.

"You can stow that chat," said the boy; "I have told your father the
price I would take. You want my station and stock-in-trade. Hand over
two hundred and fifty francs, and they are yours."

"But my dad will only give two hundred," returned the other.

"Then he don't need give nothing, for he won't get 'em," answered the
chestnut vender sharply. "Two hundred francs for a pitch like this! Why,
I have sometimes taken ten francs and more, and that ain't a lie, on the
word of Toto Chupin."

Andre was tickled wi