The man, however, did not take notice of Archie’s gesture, but walking forward to Madame, laid the letter down before her.  As he did so, she caught sight of the delicacy of his hands, and looked up suddenly with a piercing gaze.  He bore the scrutiny coolly, and took a chair in silence, his companion doing the same, while Madame opened the letter and read Slivers’ bad writing with a dexterity only acquired by long practice.  Having finished her perusal, she looked up slowly.

‘A broken-down gentleman,’ she said to herself, as she saw the easy bearing and handsome face of the young man; then looking at his companion, she saw by his lumpish aspect and coarse hands, that he occupied a much lower rank of life than his friend.

Monsieur Vandeloup—­for it was he—­caught her eye as she was scrutinising them, and his face broke into a smile—­a most charming smile, as Madame observed mentally, though she allowed nothing of her thoughts to appear on her face.

‘You want work,’ she said, slowly folding up the letter, and placing it in her pocket; ‘do you understand anything about gold-mining?’

‘Unfortunately, no, Madame,’ said Vandeloup, coolly; ’but we are willing to learn.’

Archie grunted in a dissatisfied manner, for he was by no means in favour of teaching people their business, and, besides, he thought Vandeloup too much of a gentleman to do good work.

‘You look hardly strong enough for such hard labour,’ said Mrs Villiers, doubtfully eyeing the slender figure of the young man.  ‘Your companion, I think, will do, but you—­’

’I, Madame, am like the lilies of the field that neither toil nor spin,’ replied Vandeloup, gaily; ’but, unfortunately, I am now compelled by necessity to work, and though I should prefer to earn my bread in an easier manner, beggars,’—­with a characteristic shrug, which did not escape Madame’s eye—­cannot be choosers.’

‘You are French?’ she asked quickly, in that language.

‘Yes, Madame,’ he replied in the same tongue, ’both my friend and myself are from Paris, but we have not been long out here.’

‘Humph,’ Madame leaned her head on her hand and thought, while Vandeloup looked at her keenly, and remembered what Slivers had said.

‘She is, indeed, a handsome woman,’ he observed, mentally; ’my lines will fall in pleasant places, if I remain here.’

Mrs Villiers rather liked the looks of this young man; there was a certain fascination about him which few women could resist, and Madame, although steeled to a considerable extent by experience, was yet a woman.  His companion, however, she did not care about—­he had a sullen and lowering countenance, and looked rather dangerous.

‘What is your name?’ she asked the young man.

‘Gaston Vandeloup.’

‘You are a gentleman?’

He bowed, but said nothing.

‘And you?’ asked Madame, sharply turning to the other.