as he came home.
As usual, he did so last evening. When they came to arrest him, he
forgot to change again, and went off with the coat he had on. The
other remained hanging in the room, where the girl took it just now
to brush it, and put it away; and this portfolio, which my husband
always carries with him, fell from its pocket."

It was an old Russia leather portfolio, which had once been red, but
which time and use had turned black. It was full of papers.

"Perhaps, indeed," exclaimed Maxence, "we may find some information
there."

He opened it, and had already taken out three-fourths of its contents
without finding any thing of any consequence, when suddenly he
uttered an exclamation. He had just opened an anonymous note,
evidently written in a disguised hand, and at one glance had read,

"I cannot understand your negligence. You should get through that
Van Klopen matter. There is the danger."

"What is that note?" inquired M. de Tregars.

Maxence handed it to him.

"See!" said he, "but you will not understand the immense interest
it has for me."

But having read it,

"You are mistaken," said Marius. "I understand perfectly; and I'll
prove it to you."

The next moment, Maxence took out of the portfolio, and read aloud,
the following bill, dated two days before.

"Sold to ---- two leather trunks with safety locks at 220 francs each;
say, francs 440."

M. de Tregars started.

"At last," he said, "here is doubtless one end of the thread which
will guide us to the truth through this labyrinth of iniquities."

And, tapping gently on Maxence's shoulders,

"We must talk," he said, "and at length. To-morrow, before you go
to M. de Thaller's with his fifteen thousand francs, call and see
me: I shall expect you. We are now engaged upon a common work; and
something tells me, that, before long, we shall know what has become
of the Mutual Credit's millions."

PART II. FISHING IN TROUBLED WATERS.

I

"When I think," said Coleridge, "that every morning, in Paris alone,
thirty thousand fellows wake up, and rise with the fixed and settled
idea of appropriating other people's money, it is with renewed wonder
that every night, when I go home, I find my purse still in my pocket."

And yet it is not those who simply aim to steal your portemonnaie
who are either the most dishonest or the most formidable.

To stand at the corner of some dark street, and rush upon the first
man that comes alo