Felix took exactly the view of the matter which had been already expressed by Mr. Troy.  “Superior in intelligence,” he said, “but not superior in courage, to the English police.  Capable of performing wonders on their own ground and among their own people.  But, my dear aunt, the two most dissimilar nations on the face of the earth are the English and the French.  The French police may speak our language—­but they are incapable of understanding our national character and our national manners.  Set them to work on a private inquiry in the city of Pekin—­and they would get on in time with the Chinese people.  Set them to work in the city of London—­and the English people would remain, from first to last, the same impenetrable mystery to them.  In my belief the London Sunday would be enough of itself to drive them back to Paris in despair.  No balls, no concerts, no theaters, not even a museum or a picture-gallery open; every shop shut up but the gin-shop; and nothing moving but the church bells and the men who sell the penny ices.  Hundreds of Frenchmen come to see me on their first arrival in England.  Every man of them rushes back to Paris on the second Saturday of his visit, rather than confront the horrors of a second Sunday in London!  However, you can try it if you like.  Send me a written abstract of the case, and I will forward it to one of the official people in the Rue Jerusalem, who will do anything he can to oblige me.  Of course,” said Felix, turning to Mr. Troy, “some of you have got the number of the lost bank-note?  If the thief has tried to pass it in Paris, my man may be of some use to you.”

“Three of us have got the number of the note,” answered Mr. Troy; “Miss Isabel Miller, Mr. Moody, and myself.”

“Very good,” said Felix.  “Send me the number, with the abstract of the case.  Is there anything else I can do towards recovering the money?” he asked, turning to his aunt.  “There is one lucky circumstance in connection with this loss—­isn’t there?  It has fallen on a person who is rich enough to take it easy.  Good heavens! suppose it had been my loss!”

“It has fallen doubly on me,” said Lady Lydiard; “and I am certainly not rich enough to take it that easy.  The money was destined to a charitable purpose; and I have felt it my duty to pay it again.”

Felix rose and approached his aunt’s chair with faltering steps, as became a suffering man.  He took Lady Lydiard’s hand and kissed it with enthusiastic admiration.

“You excellent creature!” he said.  “You may not think it, but you reconcile me to human nature.  How generous! how noble!  I think I’ll go to bed again, Mr. Troy, if you really don’t want any more of me.  My head feels giddy and my legs tremble under me.  It doesn’t matter; I shall feel easier when Alfred has taken me out of my clothes again.  God bless you, my dear aunt!  I never felt so proud of being related to you as I do to-day.  Good-morning Mr. Troy!