At this moment, by a pleasing coincidence, Conte Crayon himself appeared with the desired explanation.  “You see,” he said, “that beast of a Siccatif de Courtray hunted me up yesterday and told me the yarn about you and the slop-shop man.  He wanted me to write it up and publish it, ‘as a joke,’ he said; but it was clear enough that he was in ugly earnest about it.  And so, you see, I had to rush it into print in the way I chose to tell it—­which won’t do you a bit of harm, d’Antimoine—­in order to head him off.  The blackguard meant to get you into a mess, and if I’d hung fire he’d have told somebody else about it, and had the real story published.  Of course, you know, there’s nothing in the real story that you need be ashamed of; but if it had been told, you certainly would have been laughed at, and nasty people would have said nasty things about it.  And as there wasn’t any time to lose, I had to print it first and then come here and explain matters afterward.  And what I’ve got to say is this:  Just you cheek it out and say that it was a bet, and that you won it!  Brown and I will back you up in it, and so will the slop-shop man.  I’ve been to see him this morning, and he is so pleased with the way that ‘The Marquis Suit’ is selling, and with the extra free advertisement that he has got out of my article, that he’s promised to adopt the bet version in his advertisement in all the papers.  He is going to advertise that The Marquis Suit is so called because everybody who wears it looks like a marquis—­just as you did.  This cuts the ground right from under the Count’s feet, you see; for nobody’d believe him on his oath if they could help it.

“And now I must clear out.  I’ve got a race at Jerome Park at two o’clock.  It’s all right, d’Antimoine; I assure you it’s all right—­but I should advise you to punch the Count’s head, all the same.”

Vandyke Brown thought it was all right, too, as he talked the matter over with Jaune after little Conte Crayon had gone.  But Jaune refused to be comforted.  So far as the public was concerned he admitted that Conte Crayon’s story had saved him, but he was oppressed by a great dread of what might be the effect of the truth upon Rose.  For Juane d’Antimoine was too honest a gentleman even to think of deceiving his mistress.  He must tell her the whole story, without reserve, and as she approved or disapproved of what he had done must his hopes of happiness live or die.

“Better have it out with her to-day, and be done with it,” counseled Brown.

“Ah! it is well for you to speak of a ’urry, my good Van; but it is not you who go to execute your life.  No, I ’ave not the force to go to-day.  To-day I go to make a long walk.  Then this night I sleep well.  Tomorrow, in the morning, do I go to affront my destiny.”  And from this resolution Jaune was not to be moved.