“Nowhere in particular.  Yesterday I slept in a stable, but there isn’t room for all my furniture there, so I must shift.”

“Would you like to have my room for a day or two?” asked Tantaine, chuckling at the boy’s jest.  “I have moved from there, but the attic is mine for another fortnight yet.”

“I’m gone; where is it?”

“You know well enough, in the Hotel de Perou, Rue de la Hachette.  Then I will send a line to the landlady;” and tearing a leaf from his pocketbook, he scrawled on it a few words, saying that young relative of his, M. Chupin, was to have his room.

This letter, together with his banknote, Toto carefully tied up in the corner of his neckerchief, and as he crossed the street the old man watched him for a moment, and then stood gazing at the workmen on the scaffolding.  Just then Gandelu and his son came out, and the contractor paused to give a few instructions.  For a few seconds Gaston and Chupin stood side by side, and a strange smile flitted across Tantaine’s face as he noted this.  “Both children of Paris,” muttered he, “and both striking examples of the boasted civilization.  The dandy struts along the pavement, while the street arab plays in the gutter.”

But he had no time to spend in philosophical speculations, as the omnibus that he required appeared, and entering it, in another half-hour he entered Paul Violaine’s lodgings in the Rue Montmartre.

The portress, Mother Brigaut, was at her post as Tantaine entered the courtyard and asked,—­

“And how is our young gentleman to-day?”

“Better, sir, ever so much better; I made him a lovely bowl of soup yesterday, and he drank up every drop of it.  He looks like a real king this morning, and the doctor sent in a dozen of wine to-day, which will, I am sure, effect a perfect cure.”

With a smile and a nod Tantaine was making his way to the stairs, when Mother Brigaut prevented his progress.

“Some one was here yesterday,” remarked she, “asking about M. Paul.”

“What sort of a looking person was it?”

“Oh, a man like any other, nothing in particular about him, but he wasn’t a gentleman, for after keeping me for fully fifteen minutes talking and talking, he only gave me a five-franc piece.”

The description was not one that would lead to a recognition of the person, and Tantaine asked in tones of extreme annoyance,—­

“Did you not notice anything particular about the man?”

“Yes, he had on gold spectacles with the mountings as fine as a hair, and a watch chain as thick and heavy as I have ever seen.”

“And is that all?”

“Yes,” answered she.  “Oh! there was one thing more—­the person knows that you come here.”

“Does he?  Why do you think so?”

“Because all the time he was talking to me he was in a rare fidget, and always kept his eyes on the door.”

“Thanks, Mother Brigaut; mind and keep a sharp lookout,” returned Tantaine, as he slowly ascended the stairs.