“Who is your agent?” he asked with assumed indifference.

“My old partner at Rio.  He deposited the money at my Paris banker’s.”

“Is this banker a friend of yours?”

“No; I never heard of him until my banker at Pau recommended him to me as an honest, reliable man; he is immensely wealthy, and stands at the head of the financiers in Paris.  His name is Fauvel, and he lives on the Rue de Provence.”

Although prepared for hearing almost anything, and determined to betray no agitation, Louis turned deadly pale.

“Do you know this banker?” asked Gaston.

“Only by reputation.”

“Then we can make his acquaintance together; for I intend accompanying you to Paris, when you return there to settle up your affairs before establishing yourself here to superintend the forge.”

At this unexpected announcement of a step which would prove his utter ruin, Louis was stupefied.  In answer to his brother’s questioning look, he gasped out.

“You are going to Paris?”

“Certainly I am.  Why should I not go?”

“There is no reason why.”

“I hate Paris, although I have never been there.  But I am called there by interest, by sacred duties,” he hesitatingly said.  “The truth is, I understand that Mlle. de la Verberie lives in Paris, and I wish to see her.”

“Ah!”

Gaston was silent and thoughtful for some moments, and then said, nervously: 

“I will tell you, Louis, why I wish to see her.  I left our family jewels in her charge, and I wish to recover them.”

“Do you intend, after a lapse of twenty-three years, to claim these jewels?”

“Yes—­or rather no.  I only make the jewels an excuse for seeing her.  I must see her because—­because—­she is the only woman I ever really loved!”

“But how will you find her?”

“Oh! that is easy enough.  Anyone can tell me the name of her husband, and then I will go to see her.  Perhaps the shortest way to find out, would be to write to Beaucaire.  I will do so to-morrow.”

Louis made no reply.

Men of his character, when brought face to face with imminent danger, always weigh their words, and say as little as possible, for fear of committing themselves by some indiscreet remark.

Above all things, Louis was careful to avoid raising any objections to his brother’s proposed trip to Paris.  To oppose the wishes of a determined man has the effect of making him adhere more closely to them.  Each argument is like striking a nail with a hammer.  Knowing this, Louis changed the conversation, and nothing more during the day was said of Valentine or Paris.

At night, alone in his room, he brought his cunning mind to bear upon the difficulties of his situation, and wondered by what means he could extricate himself.

At first the case seemed hopeless, desperate.  During twenty years, Louis had been at war with society, trusted by none, living upon his wits, and the credulity of foolish men enabling him to gain an income without labor; and, though he generally attained his ends, it was not without great danger and constant dread of detection.