But to me, a friend, though you may not think so, and
who has reasons not to be credulous----"

"I swear to you that we have no idea where he has taken refuge."

Maxence said this with such an accent of sincerity, that doubt was
no longer possible. M. Saint Pavin's features expressed the utmost
surprise.

"What!" he exclaimed, "your father has gone without securing the
means of hearing from his family?"

"Yes."

"Without saying a word of his intentions to your mother, or your
sister, or yourself?"

"Without one word."

"Without leaving any money, perhaps?"

"We found only an insignificant sum after he left." The editor of
"The Pilot" made a gesture of ironical admiration. "Well, the
thing is complete," he said; "and Vincent is a smarter fellow than
I gave him credit for; or else he must have cared more for those
infernal women of his than any one supposed."

M. de Tregars, who had remained hitherto silent, now stepped
forward.

"What women?" he asked.

"How do I know?" he replied roughly. "How could any one ever find
out any thing about a man who was more hermetically shut up in his
coat than a Jesuit in his gown?"

"M. Costeclar--"

"That's another nice bird! Still he may possibly have discovered
something of Vincent's life; for he led him a pretty dance.
Wasn't he about to marry Mlle. Favoral once?"

"Yes, in spite of herself even."

"Then you are right: he had discovered something. But, if you rely
on him to tell you anything whatever, you are reckoning without
your host."

"Who knows?" murmured M. de Tregars.

But M. Saint Pavin heard him not. Prey to a violent agitation, he
was pacing up and down the room.

"Ah, those men of cold appearance," he growled, "those men with
discreet countenance, those close-shaving calculators, those
moralists! What fools they do make of themselves when once
started! Who can imagine to what insane extremities this one
may have been driven under the spur of some mad passion!"

And stamping violently his foot upon the carpet, from which arose
clouds of dust,

"And yet," he swore, "I must find him. And, by thunder! wherever
he may be hid, I shall find him."

M. de Tregars was watching M. Saint Pavin with a scrutinizing eye.

"You have a great interest in finding him, then?" he said.

The other stopped short.

"I have the interest," he replied, "of a man who thought himself
shrewd, and who has been taken in like a child,--of a man to whom
they