man was going on,

"Who knows but what M. Vincent may come back?"

"No danger of that!"

"Why?"

The other looked carefully around, and, seeing only two players
absorbed in their game,

"Because," he replied, "M. Vincent is completely ruined, it seems.
He spent all his money, and a good deal of other people's money
besides. Amanda, the chambermaid, told me; and I guess she knows."

"You thought he was so rich!"

"He was. But no matter how big a bag is: if you keep taking out
of it, you must get to the bottom."

"Then he spent a great deal?"

"It's incredible! I have been in extravagant houses; but nowhere
have I ever seen money fly as it has during the five months that I
have been in that house. A regular pillage! Everybody helped
themselves; and what was not in the house, they could get from the
tradespeople, have it charged on the bill; and it was all paid
without a word."

"Then, yes, indeed, the money must have gone pretty lively," said
the old one in a convinced tone.

"Well," replied the other, "that was nothing yet. Amanda the
chambermaid who has been in the house fifteen years, told us some
stories that would make you jump. She was not much for spending,
Zelie; but some of the others, it seems . . ."

It required the greatest effort on the part of Maxence and M. de
Tregars not to play, but only to pretend to play, and to continue
to count imaginary points,--"One, two, three, four."

Fortunately the coachman with the red nose seemed much interested.

"What others?" he asked.

"That I don't know any thing about," replied the younger valet.
"But you may imagine that there must have been more than one in that
little house during the many years that M. Vincent owned it,--a man who
hadn't his equal for women, and who was worth millions."

"And what was his business?"

"Don't know that, either."

"What! there were ten of you in the house, and you didn't know the
profession of the man who paid you all?"

"We were all new."

"The chambermaid, Amanda, must have known."

"When she was asked, she said that he was a merchant. One thing is
sure, he was a queer old chap."

So interested was the old coachman, that, seeing the punch-bowl
empty, he called for another. His comrade could not fail to show
his appreciation of such politeness.

"Ah, yes!" he went on, "old Vincent was an eccentric fellow; and
never, to see him, could you have suspected that he cut up such
capers, and that he t