that he had expressed repeatedly his entire satisfaction with his purchases.  In another portion of the paper was a glaring advertisement, in which the clothing man set forth, in an animated fashion, the cheapness and desirability of “The Marquis Suit”—­a suit that “might be seen to advantage on the person of the afflicted French nobleman now in our midst who had honored it with his approval, and in whose honor it had been named.”  Upon reading the newspaper narrative and its advertisement pendant, Jaune groaned aloud.  He was oppressed by a horror of discovery, and here, as it seemed to him in his morbidly nervous condition, was a clew to his duplex identity sufficiently obvious to be apparent even to a detective.

The Count Siccatif de Courtray, as has been intimated, went so far as to fidget while listening to Mademoiselle Carthame’s vivacious description of her encounter with the handsome Marquis.  Being regaled during the ensuing evening with a very similar narrative—­a materially modified version of the events which had aroused in so lively a manner the passion of jealousy in the breast of Jaune d’Antimoine—­the Count ceased merely to fidget and became the prey to a serious anxiety.  He determined that the next day, quite unobtrusively, he would observe Mademoiselle Carthame in her relations with this unknown but dangerously fascinating nobleman; and also that he would give some attention to the nobleman himself.  This secondary purpose was strengthened the next morning, while the Count was engaged with his coffee and newspaper, by his finding in the “Courrier des Etats-Unis” a translation of the paragraph stating the curious fact that the daily walk of the Marquis began and ended at the Broadway tailor shop.

Having finished his breakfast, the Count leisurely betook himself to Broadway.  As he slowly strolled eastward, he observed on the other side of the street Jaune d’Antimoine, in his desperately shabby raiment, hurriedly walking eastward also.  The Count murmured a brief panegyric upon M. d’Antimoine, in which the words “cet animal” alone were distinguishable.  They were near Broadway at this moment, and to the Count’s surprise M. d’Antimoine entered the clothing establishment from which the Marquis departed upon his daily walk.  Could it be possible, he thought, that fortune had smiled upon the young artist, and that he was about to purchase a new suit of clothes?  The Count entertained the charitable hope that such could not be the case.

It was the Count’s purpose, in order that he might follow also the movements of Mademoiselle Carthame, to follow the Marquis from the beginning to the end of his promenade.  He set himself, therefore, to watching closely—­for the appearance of the grief-stricken foreigner, moving carelessly the while from one shop-window to another that commanded a view of the field.  At the end of half an hour, when the Count was beginning to think that the object of his solicitude was a myth, out from the broad portal