me in the handwriting of M. Zola. At first, having noticed neither the
stamp nor the postmark, I imagined that the communication had come from
Paris.

On opening the envelope, however, I found that it contained a card on
which was written in French and in pencil:--


'My dear confrere,--Tell nobody in the world, and particularly
no newspaper, that I am in London. And oblige me by coming to
see me to-morrow, Wednesday, at eleven o'clock, at Grosvenor
Hotel. You will ask for M. Pascal. And above all, absolute
Silence, for the most serious interests are at stake.

'Cordially,
'EMILE ZOLA.'


I was for a moment amazed and also somewhat affected by this message, the
first addressed by M. Zola to anybody after his departure from France.
Since the publication of his novel 'Paris,' which had followed his first
trial, I had not seen him, and we had exchanged but few letters. I had
written to express my sympathy over the outcome of the proceedings at
Versailles, but owing to his sudden flitting my note had failed to reach
him. And now here he was in London--in exile, as, curiously enough, I
myself had foretold as probable some time before in a letter to one of
the newspapers.

My first impulse was to hurry to the Grosvenor immediately, but I
reflected that I might not find him there, and that even if I did I might