y station,
and that was enough. When we arrived, I was on the verge of
insensibility. I remember that I was led up-stairs by two waiters, and
that the stranger saw me to my room. Then all was darkness and stupor.

CHAPTER X.

THE NEXT MORNING.

"Oh, my Christian ducats!" _Merchant of Venice_.

Gone!--gone!--both gone!--my new gold watch and my purse full of notes
and Napoleons!

I rang the bell furiously. It was answered by a demure-looking waiter,
with a face like a parroquet.

"Does Monsieur please to require anything?"

"Require anything!" I exclaimed, in the best French I could muster. "I
have been robbed!"

"Robbed, Monsieur?"

"Yes, of my watch and purse!"

"_Tiens_! Of a watch and purse?" repeated the parroquet, lifting his
eyebrows with an air of well-bred surprise. "_C'est drole."_

"Droll!" I cried, furiously. "Droll, you scoundrel! I'll let you know
whether I think it droll! I'll complain to the authorities! I'll have
the house searched! I'll--I'll...."

I rang the bell again. Two or three more waiters came, and the master of
the hotel. They all treated my communication in the same manner--coolly;
incredulously; but with unruffled politeness.

"Monsieur forgets," urged the master, "that he came back to the hotel
last night in a state of absolute intoxication. Monsieur was accompanied
by a stranger, who was gentlemanly, it it true; but since Monsieur
acknowledges that that stranger was personally unknown to him, Monsieur
may well perceive it would be more reasonable if his suspicions first
pointed in that direction."

Struck by the force of this observation, I flung myself into a chair and
remained silent.

"Has Monsieur no acquaintances in Paris to whom he may apply for
advice?" inquired the landlord.

"None," said I, moodily; "except that I have a letter of introduction
to one Dr. Cheron."

The landlord and his waiters exchanged glances.

"I would respectfully recommend Monsieur to present his letter
immediately," said the former. "Monsieur le Docteur Cheron is a man of
the world--a man of high reputation and sagacity. Monsieur could not do
better than advise with him."

"Call a cab for me," said I, after a long pause. "I will go."

The determination cost me something. Dismayed by the extent of my loss,
racked with headache, languid, pale, and full of remorse for last
night's folly, it needed but this humiliation to complete my misery.
What! appear before my instructor for the