Dr. Cheron slightly raised his eye-brows, and entered the name.

“And at Lavoisier’s, on the Boulevard Poissonniere—­”

“What is sold, pray, at Lavoisier’s?”

“Gloves, perfumes, hosiery, ready-made linen...”

“Enough—­you can proceed.”

“I have also a bill at—­at Barbet’s, in the Passage de l’Opera.”

“And Barbet is—?”

“A—­a florist!” I replied, very reluctantly.

“Humph!—­a florist!” observed Dr. Cheron, again transfixing me with the cold, blue eye.  “To what amount do you suppose you are indebted to Monsieur Barbet?”

I looked down, and became utterly unintelligible.

“Fifty francs?”

“I—­I fear, more than—­than—­”

“A hundred?  A hundred and fifty?  Two hundred?”

“About two hundred, I suppose, sir,” I said desperately.

“Two hundred francs—­that is to say, eight pounds English—­to your florist!  Really, Mr. Arbuthnot, you must be singularly fond of flowers!”

I looked down in silence.

“Have you a conservatory attached to your rooms?”

The skeleton clock struck the half hour.

“Excuse me, sir,” I said, driven now to the last extremity, “but—­but I have an engagement which—­in short, I will, if you please, make out a list of—­of these items, ascertaining the correct amount of each; and when once paid, I will endeavor—­I mean, it is my earnest desire, to—­to limit my expenditure strictly to—­in short, to study economy for the future.  If, in the meantime, you will have the goodness to excuse me....”

“One word, young man.  Will the fifty pounds cover your debts?”

“Quite, sir, I am confident.”

“And leave you something in hand for your current expenses?”

“Indeed, I fear very little.”

“In that case what will you do?”

This was a terrible question, and one for which I could find no answer.

“Write to your father for another remittance—­eh?”

“I—­upon my word, I dare not, sir,” I faltered.

“Then you would go in debt again?”

“I really fear—­even with the strictest economy—­I—­”

“Be so obliging as to let me have your seat,” said Dr. Cheron, thrusting the obnoxious note-book into his pocket and taking my place at the desk, from which he brought out a couple of cards, and a printed paper.

“This ticket,” said he, “admits the holder to the anatomical course for the term now beginning, and this to the lectures at the Ecole Pratique.  Both are in my gift.  The first is worth two hundred francs, and the second two hundred and fifty.  I ought, perhaps, in strict justice, to bestow them upon some needy and deserving individual:  however, to save you from debt, or a very unpleasant alternative, I will fill them in with your name, and, when you bring me all your bills receipted, I will transfer to your account the four hundred and fifty francs which I must, otherwise, have paid for your courses out of the remittance forwarded by your father for that purpose.  Understand, however, that I must first have the receipts, and that I expect you, on the word of a gentleman, to commit no more follies, and to contract no more debts.”