“Boirot or Clameran,” said he, “I hope to have the pleasure of inviting you to dine with him before long.  Of the four hundred thousand francs which I was ordered to collect for him, he only wishes to draw one hundred, and tells me to keep the rest on running account.  I judge from this that he intends coming to Paris.”

“I shall be delighted to make his acquaintance.”

Clameran broached another topic, and seemed to have entirely forgotten the news told him by the banker.

Although apparently engrossed in the conversation of his neighbor at the table, he closely watched Mme. Fauvel and her niece.

He saw that they were unable to conceal their agitation, and stealthily exchanged significant looks.

Evidently the same terrible idea had crossed their minds.

Madeleine seemed more nervous and startled than her aunt.  When M. Fauvel uttered Gaston’s name, she saw Raoul begin to draw back in his chair and glance in a frightened manner toward the window, like a detected thief looking for means of escape.

Raoul, less experienced than his uncle, was thoroughly discountenanced.  He, the original talker, the lion of a dinner-party, never at a loss for some witty speech, was now perfectly dumb; he sat anxiously watching Louis.

At last the dinner ended, and as the guests passed into the drawing-room, Clameran and Raoul managed to remain last in the dining-room.

When they were alone, they no longer attempted to conceal their anxiety.

“It is he!” said Raoul.

“I have no doubt of it.”

“Then all is lost; we had better make our escape.”

But a bold adventurer like Clameran had no idea of giving up the ship till forced to do so.

“Who knows what may happen?” he asked, thoughtfully.  “There is hope yet.  Why did not that muddle-headed banker tell us where this Clameran is to be found?”

Here he uttered a joyful exclamation.  He saw M. Fauvel’s memorandum-book lying on the table.

“Watch!” he said to Raoul.

Seizing the note-book, he hurriedly turned over the leaves, and, in an undertone, read: 

“Gaston, Marquis of Clameran, Oloron, Lower Pyrenees.”

“Well, does finding out his address assist us?” inquired Raoul, eagerly.

“It may save us:  that is all.  Let us return to the drawing-room; our absence might be observed.  Exert yourself to appear unconcerned and gay.  You almost betrayed us once by your agitation.”

“The two women suspect something.”

“Well, suppose they do?”

“The best thing that we can do is escape; the sooner we leave Paris, the better.”

“Do you think we should do any better in London?  Don’t be so easily frightened.  I am going to plant my batteries, and I warrant they will prove successful.”

They joined the other guests.  But, if their conversation had not been overheard their movements had been watched.