nze statuary was intermingled with masses of growing flowers.

"It must take twenty thousand francs a year to keep up this
conservatory alone," thought M. de Tregars.

Meantime the old chambermaid opened a satinwood door with silver
lock.

"That's the parlor," she said. "Take a seat whilst I go and tell
madame."

In this parlor everything had been combined to dazzle. Furniture,
carpets, hangings, every thing, was rich, too rich, furiously,
incontestably, obviously rich. The chandelier was a masterpiece,
the clock an original and unique piece of work. The pictures
hanging upon the wall were all signed with the most famous names.

"To judge of the rest by what I have seen," thought M. de Tregars,
"there must have been at least four or five hundred thousand francs
spent on this house."

And, although he was shocked by a quantity of details which betrayed
the most absolute lack of taste, he could hardly persuade himself
that the cashier of the Mutual Credit could be the master of this
sumptuous dwelling; and he was asking himself whether he had not
followed the wrong scent, when a circumstance came to put an end to
all his doubts.

Upon the mantlepiece, in a small velvet frame, was Vincent Favoral's
portrait.

M. de Tregars had been seated for a few minutes, and was collecting
his somewhat scattered thoughts, when a slight grating sound, and
a rustling noise, made him turn around.

Mme. Zelie Cadelle was coming in.

She was a woman of some twenty-five or six, rather tall, lithe, and
well made. Her face was pale and worn; and her heavy dark hair was
scattered over her neck and shoulders. She looked at once sarcastic
and good-natured, impudent and naive, with her sparkling eyes, her
turned-up nose, and wide mouth furnished with teeth, sound and white,
like those of a young dog. She had wasted no time upon her dress;
for she wore a plain blue cashmere wrapper, fastened at the waist
with a sort of silk scarf of similar color.

From the very threshold,

"Dear me!" she exclaimed, "how very singular!"

M. de Tregars stepped forward.

"What?" he inquired.

"Oh, nothing!" she replied,--"nothing at all!"

And without ceasing to look at him with a wondering eye, but
suddenly changing her tone of voice,

"And so, sir," she said, "my servants have been unable to keep you
from forcing yourself into my house!"

"I hope, madame," said M. de Tregars with a polite bow, "that you
will excuse my persistence. I