commercial firm. As soon as he reached
his home, and had tenderly embraced his daughter, he went to the private
room of Martin Rigal, and opened it with the key that never left
his person, and then gazed at a large rough mass of brickwork which
disfigured one side of the room, and which was the remains of the wall
that erewhile had been so hastily erected in the Office of the Servants'
Registry.

"This won't do," muttered he; "it must be plastered, and then
repapered."

He picked up the bits of brick and plaster that lay on the floor, and
threw them into the fire, and then pushed a large screen in front of the
rough brickwork. He had just finished his work when Hortebise entered
the room, with his perpetually smiling face.

"Now, you unbeliever," cried Mascarin gaily, "is not fortune within our
grasp? Tantaine and Mascarin are dead, or rather, they never existed.
Beaumarchef is on his way to America, La Candele will be in London in a
week, and now we may enjoy our millions."

"Heaven grant it," said the doctor piously.

"Pooh, pooh! we have nothing more to fear, as you would have known had
you gone into the case as thoroughly as I have done. Who was the enemy
whom we had most need to dread? Why, Andre. He certainly is not dead,
but he is laid up for some weeks, and that is enough. Besides, he
has given up the game, for one of my men who managed to get into the
hospital says that he has not received a visitor or dispatched a letter
for the last fifteen days."

"But he had friends."

"Pshaw! friends always forget you! Why, where was M. de
Breulh-Faverlay?"

"It is the racing season, and he is a fixture in his stables."

"Madame de Bois Arden?"

"The new fashions are sufficient for her giddy head."

"M. Gandelu?"

"He has his son's affairs to look after and there is no one else of any
consequence."

"And how about young Gandelu?"

"Oh! he has yielded to Tantaine's winning power, and has made it up with
Rose, and the turtle doves have taken wing for Florence."

But the doctor was still dissatisfied. "I am uneasy about the
Mussidans," said he.

"And pray why? De Croisenois has been very well received. I don't say
that Mademoiselle Sabine has exactly jumped into his arms, but she
thanks him every evening for the flowers he sends in the morning, and
you can't expect more than that."

"I wish the Count had not put off the marriage. Why did he do so?"

"It annoys me, too; but we can't have everything; s