On the day following Puymirol's arrest—for Puymirol was really and truly arrested—George Caumont, who had passed a very restless and uncomfortable night, was awakened at an early hour by his prospective brother-in-law. "I have come to propose a morning ride, my dear fellow," said Albert. "It is generally a thankless task to arouse a friend from sleep, but when you hear my reasons I am sure that you will forgive me. You know my mare, Verdurette, that enabled me to win a prize at the show. Well, I have come here on her back and a friend of mine has lent me two other mounts,—a very gentle animal suited to a lady, and a hack which would do very well for you. But I must tell you that last night at dinner, my sister obtained my mother's permission to take a ride in the Bois de Boulogne this morning, escorted by her betrothed and by your humble servant. Fortunately Rochas wasn't there to interfere, and it was decided that all three of us should start at half-past nine this morning. So make haste, the three horses are already standing, saddled and bridled, in our court-yard, and Gabrielle is awaiting you on the balcony. However, if the proposal doesn't please you—"

"On the contrary, I should be delighted, only I intended to spend my morning in trying to ascertain what had become of my friend Puymirol."

"What! hasn't he made his appearance yet?" exclaimed Albert, gaily. "To spend two nights out is dissipation, indeed; but I see nothing alarming it. Besides, you can do nothing. Come with us to the Bois. We can spend a couple of hours there very pleasantly, and when you return you will probably find your friend here waiting for you."

George was not convinced, but he could not tell Albert that Puymirol had become involved in dangerous schemes which might have terminated in a catastrophe. "All right," said he, "I should never forgive myself if I disappointed Mademoiselle Verdon. I will dress at once. If you like to smoke a cigar, there are some good ones in that box on the mantel-shelf." And, thereupon, George hastily dressed, and was soon ready to depart.

The house where Madame Verdon resided was only a few steps from the Rue de Medicis, and on turning the corner of the Boulevard Saint-Michel the two friends perceived the mother and daughter on the balcony. The mother was arrayed in a showy morning dress, the daughter in a dark green habit. The three horses were waiting in the court-yard, and George recognised at a glance the animal intended for him, a tall chestnut, with a spirit of mischief in his eyes. Gabrielle hastened down, and soon stood beside the young men. Her eyes were shining, her cheeks rosy, and her lips smiling. She extended her gloved hand to her betrothed, who pressed a respectful kiss upon it, as she gaily said: "So here you are at last. I was becoming so impatient. I began to fear that we should be obliged to abandon our expedition, and I really believe I should have cried with disappointment and vexation."

"I am truly sorry to have kept you waiting, mademoiselle, and—"

"Come, come; there's no time to lose. Let me mount you, Gabrielle," said Albert, and in the twinkling of an eye his sister was in the saddle.

The gentlemen then duly mounted in turn, and having saluted Madame Verdon they rode out of the yard. To reach the Boulevard St. Germain, the best road to the Bois, they had to cross the Rue de Medicis, where George resided, and scarcely were they in sight of that thoroughfare than the lieutenant turned to Caumont, exclaiming: "Why, what a crowd there is about your door! Can the house be on fire?"

It was not a fire, but something unusual was certainly going on. There were now two cabs in front of the house, and a policeman was waving back an eager crowd of people. A presentiment that all this commotion was in some way connected with Puymirol flashed across George's mind. Had his friend been brought home, wounded, dead, perhaps? "Try to find out what the matter is!" urged Albert, whereupon George checked his horse and spoke to a man who was moving away, exasperated by not having seen anything.

"Oh! the fools make such a fuss about nothing!" replied the fellow, shrugging his shoulders. "The police are searching somebody's rooms, that is all."

George was struck dumb with astonishment. What could this mean? Whose apartments were they searching? And as he asked himself this question it suddenly occurred to him that this search might be for the famous letters. The magistrate might have learned that they had fallen into Puymirol's hands, and have decided to institute a search for them. This thought worried George, for these letters were in his rooms, and if he entered the house to make any further inquiries he would certainly be putting his head into the lion's mouth, for the doorkeeper would hardly fail to inform the police of his arrival. In that case, what should he say and do to assist his friend? George did not understand Puymirol's situation, but he realised that an imprudent answer might ruin him. By keeping out of sight he would at least incur no danger of contradicting Puymirol's statements. He, Caumont, was as yet in no way connected with the affair, and in his absence no one would venture to break into his rooms to search for the letters, whereas, if he showed himself, he might be plied with questions to which he could only give unsatisfactory replies, and he might even finally be obliged to let the officials search his apartments. Worst of all, if he should be detained, Gabrielle would learn that her betrothed was mixed up in a most unfortunate affair, and the excursion to the Bois would have to be relinquished, and perhaps the marriage as well. So it was best not to interfere, at least, for the present.

The brother and sister had remained in the middle of the street, watching the crowd with evident curiosity. "Well!" inquired the lieutenant, as soon as George resumed his place on Gabrielle's left, "what is going on?"

"Nothing that can interest you in the least. The police have made a raid upon the apartments of some one in the house, it seems."

"Indeed! Upon whose?"

"I do not know. The only person that I am acquainted with in the house is Puymirol."

"And it can not be his apartments they are searching."

"Nor mine, as I am not there," responded George.

"Where are your windows?" asked Gabrielle.

"On the third floor, mademoiselle."

"But, then, the police are in your place, for, look, there is a commissary with his sash at that open window."

"Oh! my rooms are to the right—on the same floor, it's true," said George, who, to his horror, had recognised the window, where the commissary stood, as that of Puymirol's bedroom.

"Well, let us proceed, then," said Albert. "If we loiter in this way, we shall never reach our destination, and I am anxious to see the Bois at its best."

This proposal was eminently satisfactory to George, who was anxious to get away from the spot as soon as possible. But all his enjoyment was spoiled. His cheerfulness had vanished; however, Gabrielle failed to notice the change, at least, for the time being, as at this moment Albert asked her: "Have you seen Roch since yesterday?"

"No, and I am very much afraid that I shall not see much of him until after my marriage. Monsieur Rochas called this morning expressly to beg mamma not to receive our old friend any longer."

"What business is it of his, pray? and what has he to say against PlancoËt, whose little finger is worth more than Rochas's whole body?"

"He pretends that our old friend is a dangerous character. To hear him, one would suppose that poor Roch had committed any number of crimes—Roch who would not harm a mouse, and who has sacrificed himself for others ever since he came into the world."

"Well, no matter," rejoined Albert, "we shall soon be rid of Rochas and have PlancoËt all to ourselves. Now, my children, we are upon the macadamized pavement, and we have plenty of room into the bargain, so suppose we trot a little."

They trotted on along the boulevard and up the Champs ElysÉes without their progress being impeded. But in the Bois there were scores of riders of either sex and also a number of carriages. Albert began disdainfully criticising the horsemanship of those around him, and Gabrielle laughed heartily at his comments, and began to feel surprised that George remained so serious. Such was the throng that all along the AllÉe des Poteaux they were obliged to walk their horses, which was hardly to Albert's liking. "Come," said he, at last, "I've had enough of this. I don't care to stare for ever at all these fine ladies and swells. Suppose we make for the AllÉe de Longchamps, and have a canter there. Verdurette is becoming restive."

The suggestion was adopted. They turned their horses' heads in the direction of the lake, but they had hardly proceeded a hundred yards when George saw his friend Charles Balmer approaching on a handsome thoroughbred. Balmer expressed his delight at the meeting by an expressive gesture, and, reining in his horse, he abruptly said to George: "My dear fellow, I must have a talk with you. It's serious. Apologize to your friends, and join me at the chalet at the end of the lake. I will wait for you there." And thereupon he rode off.

"That gentleman is not very polite," exclaimed the lieutenant. "He certainly might have touched his hat to Gabrielle. What did he say to you?"

Gabrielle, who had heard Balmer distinctly, looked at George inquisitively. She did not like to question him, but she awaited his answer with no little anxiety. George, who was greatly embarrassed, reluctantly replied:

"He asked me to join him at the end of the lake; and I would much rather remain with you."

"Is he a friend of yours?" inquired Gabrielle.

"No, merely a club acquaintance."

"But if what he wants to say to you is important, you might leave us, and join us by-and-by at the Porte Maillot," insisted Gabrielle. "Have you any idea what he wants to speak to you about?"

"I have an idea, mademoiselle. He probably wants to give me some information in reference to Puymirol."

"The friend whose absence has caused you so much uneasiness?"

"Yes, mademoiselle. This gentleman is well acquainted with him; and I fancy he knows what has become of him."

"You must go, then."

"Leave you! Oh, no."

"But you need not leave us for long, and who knows but what M. de Puymirol may need you. I should never forgive myself for detaining you if he required your assistance; and this gentleman has perhaps come for you at his request. Go at once, pray."

George was greatly perplexed. The idea of leaving his betrothed so unceremoniously was most distasteful to him; but on the other hand, he suspected that Balmer had something pressing to communicate. Puymirol's safety was, perhaps, at stake, for since George had witnessed the raid upon the house in the Rue de Medicis, he felt almost certain that his friend had been arrested; now, Balmer, as he well knew, was on excellent terms with the investigating magistrate, and might speak a good word for Puymirol if he needed one. "You need not hesitate if the matter is of the slightest importance, my dear fellow," now exclaimed Albert, seeing his prospective brother-in-law's embarrassment. "I can see Gabrielle safely home, without your assistance, and as your conversation with this gentleman may be a lengthy one, we won't wait for you at the Porte Maillot. Vulcan, your steed, is quartered at Tattersall's, so just leave him there in charge of one of the ostlers on your way home."

"And come and see us as soon as you can," added Gabrielle. "I am anxious to hear about your friend." Then to make George feel perfectly at ease, she touched her horse lightly with the whip and cantered away, closely followed by her brother.

George decided not to follow them, but turned his horse's head in the direction which Balmer had taken. In a few moments he had reached the Chalet CafÉ, in front of which sat Balmer, regaling himself with a glass of absinthe, and smoking a huge cigar. Springing to the ground, George intrusted his horse to an urchin, and seated himself beside Balmer, of whom, without the least ceremony, he inquired, "Why do you want to see me?"

"Why?" was the reply. "You must surely have guessed that I want to talk to you about Puymirol. When did you see him last?"

"On the day before yesterday, at the Palais de l'Industrie."

"Have you any idea where he went afterwards?"

"I think he went to Madame de Lescombat's; but he hasn't returned home since, and I feel very anxious about him."

"He has had good reasons for not returning. You will recollect that on the day before yesterday, I told you that my friend Robergeot was in possession of a document which might assist him in discovering Dargental's murderer."

"It seems to me that you did tell me something of the kind," said Caumont.

"Well, the document in question was in reality a small memorandum-book. Dargental, as you know, was an inveterate gambler, but he was also a very methodical man, and so whenever he won or lost any money or made a purchase—such as a lottery ticket, he made a note of the number in this book. He carried several lottery tickets about with him in the pocket-book which the murderer stole from him, and this was recorded in his memorandum-book. So Robergeot said to himself: 'If by any extraordinary chance one of the tickets enumerated in this list should win a prize, the murderer will perhaps be foolish enough to claim the money.' Well, this is exactly what has happened. Ticket No. 115,815, which headed Dargental's list, won a prize of a hundred thousand francs at the last drawing of the lottery of the Decorative Art Society; so Robergeot immediately despatched a commissary of police and two detectives to the lottery office with orders to arrest the holder of the ticket, if he ventured to present himself. He did present himself yesterday morning—and in the person of our friend AdhÉmar de Puymirol."

"Puymirol!" exclaimed George, "it's impossible!"

"This much, at least, is certain: Puymirol has been in prison for nearly two days now."

"And you haven't told your friend, the magistrate, that Puymirol could not possibly be Dargental's murderer? You know we were breakfasting with him at the very time when the crime was committed."

"Robergeot knows that, but the fact that the missing tickets were in Puymirol's possession can not be disputed. This attempt at fraud on his part surprises you, I see, as much as it does me," continued Balmer; "but I account for it by the fact that Puymirol was most desperately hard up. He owed ten thousand francs at the club, to my certain knowledge, and hadn't a penny to meet his obligations with. He must have lost his senses in consequence, besides, he couldn't know that the authorities had a list of Dargental's tickets, and that the police were lying in wait for him at the lottery office. As regards that matter I can almost excuse him, for, after all, he injured no one as Dargental was dead; and a man whose past life has always been blameless may be forgiven for a momentary weakness. Indeed, if this were the only charge against him, the matter could be hushed up, but there is the murder—"

"But no one can really believe him guilty of that. An incontestable alibi can be established."

"Yes; but it is also necessary to prove that Puymirol had no knowledge of the murder. Now, everything seems to indicate that he was aware of it. If not, how did he come into possession of that pocket-book containing the tickets?"

An answer rose to George's lips. He merely had to relate the adventure on the Place du Carrousel to explain the mystery, but the fear of contradicting some of Puymirol's statements deterred him; besides, he did not care to tell the story to an erratic person like Balmer. He must relate it to the investigating magistrate if there were no other means of saving Puymirol. However, realizing that he, first of all, needed further information, he asked: "How does Puymirol explain the fact that these tickets were in his possession?"

"He pretends that he found them in a cab."

"Then he denies having seen anything of the pocket-book?"

"Absolutely; he was searched and it wasn't found on his person; but the strangest thing about it all is that he says he found the tickets on the very day of Dargental's death, and in the cab that took him to the Lion d'Or. He did not notice the number of the vehicle, and he declares he was alone; but it seems to me that you both arrived at the restaurant at the same time."

"It doesn't follow that I drove there with him," replied George, evasively.

"You can tell that to Robergeot, for he will certainly question you. I am surprised that he has not sent for you before now. They are looking for the cab-driver, and will surely find him sooner or later. As for the pocket-book, Robergeot thought that Puymirol might have left it at home, so he ordered his rooms to be searched this morning. I am surprised that you are ignorant of that point, as you both reside in the same house."

"I left home very early. But did the officers find anything suspicious?"

"I don't know yet, but I shall soon; that is, if my friend Robergeot does not begin to distrust me now that things are looking so badly for Puymirol. He knows that we are both well acquainted with him, you especially, and between ourselves, I should not be surprised if your rooms were searched as well, for Robergeot may suspect Puymirol of having concealed the pocket-book there."

"Not with my knowledge and consent," said George.

"Oh! even if Puymirol were guilty, he wouldn't have made you his confidant, of course. Still, if I were in your place, I would find out what occurred in the Rue de Medicis at once, that is, unless you will come and lunch with me."

"No, thank you," replied George. "I shall take your advice, and return home without delay; but I rely upon your assistance in getting Puymirol out of this scrape."

"I will do what I can, but it won't be much I'm afraid; you, on the contrary, may perhaps be able to give evidence which will lead to his speedy release."

"You can at least ask your friend, Monsieur Robergeot, to grant me permission to see Puymirol at the dÉpÔt."

"I will do so, of course; but I doubt if he will consent. But there is nothing to prevent you from calling on him in person if you like. He is at his office every afternoon."

"Is the affair known at the club?"

"Not in all its details, but a rumour of Puymirol's arrest has got about, and as his debts remain unpaid, you have no time to lose if you care to prevent a scandal. If you want to see me again I shall be at the club, between four and seven."

Springing upon his horse, George then galloped off, leaving Balmer to finish his absinthe. Ten minutes later, he left his steed at Tattersall's, and jumping into a cab, ordered the jehu to drive him with all speed to the Rue de Medicis. He took the precaution to alight at some distance from his door, however, so as not to attract the attention of the police, if they should still be about, but he soon had the satisfaction of finding that the crowd had dispersed, and that the vehicles which had brought the officers were no longer there. On entering the house, he went straight to the doorkeeper, who on seeing him, exclaimed: "Ah, sir, what an unfortunate affair! You had no sooner gone out this morning than a magistrate, accompanied by a number of policemen, came here with Monsieur de Puymirol, who was under arrest."

"Puymirol! arrested!" cried George, feigning surprise. "This is incredible! What charge can there be against him?"

"I don't know, sir," replied the porter. "I tried to talk with the policemen who stood on guard in the street, but they wouldn't give me any information."

"But why did they bring Puymirol here?"

"So that he might be present when his apartments were searched, I suppose. They entered his rooms with him, and they rummaged about everywhere, even in the mattresses. I don't know what they were looking for, but I do know that they found nothing, and that they seemed terribly disappointed."

"How did Puymirol look while they searched his place?"

"He looked as if he were saying: 'Amuse yourself; break open the locks, and empty the drawers. You will only have your labour for your pains.' He scarcely deigned to give them an answer when they spoke to him."

"He must be the victim of some mistake. He is quite incapable of any crime."

"That is exactly what I said to the commissary of police, when he asked me for information about your friend."

"Did he say anything about me?" inquired George, eagerly.

"No; your name was not mentioned. He did not even seem to be aware of your existence. If I might venture to give you a little advice, sir, you had better not mix yourself up in this affair. Your friend will get out of the scrape without any assistance; and I have an idea that he prefers to do so; for if he had wanted your help, he would have inquired where you were, or have asked to see you."

This was not a bad argument; at least, it furnished George with abundant food for reflection. On reaching his rooms, he found them exactly as he had left them. He hastened to the desk in which he had locked up the letters. They were still there, and in his perplexity his first idea was to annihilate them. Indeed, he actually lighted a candle with that object. On reflection, however, it occurred to him that although the discovery of these letters, if his—Caumont's—rooms were searched, might aggravate Puymirol's situation, they might also be the means of saving him, by forcing him to tell the truth, instead of maintaining a dangerous silence out of consideration for the Countess de Lescombat, whose reputation was hardly worth defending. Would it not be better to take them to the magistrate? But in that case, both Madame de Lescombat and Blanche Pornic would be mixed up in the affair; and although George cared but little as to what befell the countess, he could not forget that Albert, his prospective brother-in-law, was the actress's admirer, and that he would certainly take her defence. The young officer was indeed so impetuous that he might fight the police agents sent to arrest her, and get himself lodged in jail! And what a blow that would be for Gabrielle. At last in his perplexity, George thought of a plan which seemed tolerably feasible. He resolved to go and see Blanche Pornic. As Albert was to lunch with his mother and sister, there was no fear of meeting him in the Avenue de Messine. "I shall question her, and question her closely," said Caumont to himself. "It will depend entirely upon her answers whether I return her letter to her, or hand it over to the investigating magistrate. At all events I must see that official to-day. The straight road is always the shortest and safest." Thereupon putting the letters in his pocket, George started off upon his campaign.