possible ceremony; his black suit was glossy; his hat was glossy;
his varnished pumps were more than glossy--they were phosphorescent.
Gloves only were wanting to his honest hands.

[Illustration: PERRUQUIER.]

Soaped, napkined and generally extinguished, I could only stammer,
"You here in Brussels? What a droll meeting!"

"Wherefore droll?" asked Joliet, with a huge surprise, which lasted
him all through his next sentence. "I come here to marry my daughter.
Everything is ready; we count on your presence at the wedding; the
lawyer has drawn up the contract; and the breakfast is now cooking at
the best restaurant in the place."

"Francine's wedding, my dear Joliet!" I exclaimed. And, going back to
my apprehensions at her furtive disappearance from Carlsruhe, and
to my conjectures of some amorous mystery between her and her Yankee
traducer, Kraaniff, I added gravely, "It is very creditable!"

"How, creditable--and droll?" repeated the honest man, evidently much
surprised at my own accumulating surprises. "Did not you hear?"

[Illustration: FATHER JOLIET.]

"Not the faintest word," I said, "but I am none the less gratified to
find this affair ending, as it should, in the presence of a lawyer. As
for your wedding-invitation, my good friend, you are a little tardy in
delivering it, for it is exactly to-day that I am obliged to attend at
the marriage of one of my friends, M. Fortnoye."