“Eh, what do you mean?”

“I mean—­why—­be careful, of course.  Hang me if I exactly know what I do mean.  It is just an idea that came to me all of a jump.  But there, be off; I ain’t going to say another word.”

With much difficulty Andre repressed his astonishment.  He saw that this young scamp was the possessor of many secrets which might be of inestimable value to him; but he also saw that he was determined to hold his tongue, and that it would at present be a waste of time to try and get anything out of him; and an empty cab passing at this moment, Andre hailed it, and told the coachman to drive fast to the Champs Elysees.  In obedience to the warning that he had just received from Toto, he did not give the name of the cafe where he was to meet De Breulh, for he made up his mind to be careful, yes, extremely careful.  He recollected the two odd whistles which had seemed to make Mascarin wince, and which certainly broke off the conference of the three men, and he remembered that it was after a glance down the street that Toto had become less communicative and had given him that curt warning.  “By heaven,” said he, as the recollection of a story he had read not long ago dawned on him, “I am being followed.”  He lowered the front glass of the cab, and attracted the coachman’s attention by pulling him by the sleeve.

“Listen to me,” said he, as the man turned, “and do not slacken your speed.  Here, take your five francs in advance.”

“But look here——­”

“Listen to me.  Go as sharp as you can to the Rue de Matignon; turn down it, and, as you do, go a bit slower; then drive on like lightning, and when you are in the Champs Elysees do what you like, for your cab will be empty.”

The driver chuckled.

“Aha,” said he; “I see you are being followed, and you want to give ’em leg bail.”

“Yes, yes; you are right.”

“Then listen to me.  Take care when you jump, and don’t do it on the pavement, for t’other is the safest.”

Andre succeeded in alighting safely, and turned down a narrow court before his pursuer had entered the street; but it was vain for the young painter to lurk in a doorway, for after five minutes had elapsed there was nothing to be seen, and no spy had made his appearance.

“I have been over-cautious,” muttered he.

More than a quarter of an hour had elapsed, and Andre felt that he might leave his hiding-place, and go in quest of De Breulh; and as he approached the spot chosen for their meeting-place, he saw his friend’s carriage, and near it was the owner, smoking a cigar.  The two men caught sight of each other almost at the same moment.  De Breulh advanced to greet the young man with extended hand.

“I have been waiting for you for the last twenty minutes,” said he.

Andre commenced to apologize, but his friend checked him.

“Never mind,” returned he; “I know that you must have had some excellent reasons; but, to tell you the honest truth, I had become rather nervous about you.”