M. de Coralth, who was a man of wide experience, would certainly have felt alarmed if he had seen his unknown enemy at the present moment, for Victor's eyes, usually a pale and undecided blue, were glittering like steel, and his hands were clinched most threateningly. "For he was the cause of all my trouble," he continued, gloomily. "I've told you, sir, that I was guilty of an infamous deed once upon a time. If it hadn't been for a miracle I should have killed a man--the king of men. Ah, well! if Monsieur Andre had broken his back by falling from a fifth-floor window, my Coralth would be the Duc de Champdoce to-day. And shall he be allowed to ride about in his carriage, and deceive and ruin honest people? No--there are too many such villains at large for public safety. Wait a little, Coralth--I owe you something, and I always pay my debts. When M. Andre saved me, though I richly deserved to have my throat cut, he made no conditions. He only said, 'If you are not irredeemably bad you will be honest after this.' And he said these words as he was lying there as pale as death with his shoulder broken, and his body mangled from his fall. Great heavens! I felt smaller than--than nothing before him. But I swore that I would do honor to his teachings--and when evil thoughts enter my mind, and when I feel a thirst for liquor, I say to myself, 'Wait a bit, and--and M. Andre will take a glass with you.' And that quenches my thirst instantly. I have his portrait at home, and every night, before going to bed, I tell him the history of the day--and sometimes I fancy that he smiles at me. All this is very absurd, perhaps, but I'm not ashamed of it. M. Andre and my good mother, they are my supports, my crutches, and with them I'm not afraid of making a false step." Schebel, the German philosopher, who has written a treatise on Volition, in four volumes, was no greater a man than Chupin. "So you may keep your money, sir," he resumed. "I'm an honest fellow, and honest men ought to ask no reward for the performance of a duty. Coralth mustn't be allowed to triumph over the innocent chap he ruined. What did you call him? Ferailleur? It's an odd name. Never mind-- we'll get him out of this scrape; he shall marry his sweetheart after all; and I'll dance at the wedding."

As he finished speaking he laughed a shrill, dangerous laugh, which revealed his sharp teeth--but such invincible determination was apparent on his face, that M. Fortunat felt no misgivings. He was sure that this volunteer would be of more service than the highest-priced hireling. "So I can count on you, Victor?" he inquired.

"And you hope to have some positive information by Tuesday?"

"Before then, I hope, if nothing goes amiss."

"Very well; I will devote my attention to Ferailleur then. As to Valorsay's affairs, I am better acquainted with them than he is himself. We must be prepared to enter upon the campaign when Mademoiselle Marguerite comes, and we will act in accordance with her instructions."

Chupin had already caught up his hat; but just as he was leaving the room, he paused abruptly. "How stupid!" he exclaimed. "I had forgotten the principal thing. Where does Coralth live?"

According to his habit when things did not go to his liking, Chupin began to scratch his head furiously. "That's bad," growled he. "Viscounts of his stamp don't parade their addresses in the directory. Still, I shall find him." However, although he expressed this conviction he went off decidedly out of temper.

"I shall lose the entire evening hunting up the rascal's address," he grumbled, as he hastened homeward. "And whom shall I ask for it?--Madame d'Argeles's concierge? Would he know it--M. Wilkie's servant? That would be dangerous." He thought of roaming sound about M. de Valorsay's residence, and of bribing one of the valets; but while crossing the boulevard, the sight of Brebant's Restaurant put a new idea into his head. "I have it!" he muttered; "my man's caught!" And he darted into the nearest cafe where he ordered some beer and writing materials.