The appearance of the fashionably dressed young man reconciled Paul to
the place in which he was.

"A Marquis!" he murmured; "and the other swell-looking fellow must be M.
Mascarin."

Paul was about to step forward, when Beaumarchef respectfully accosted
the last comer,--

"Who do you think, sir," said he, "I have just seen?"

"Tell me quickly," was the impatient reply.

"Caroline Schimmel; you know who I mean."

"What! the woman who was in the service of the Duchess of Champdoce?"

"Exactly so."

M. Mascarin uttered an exclamation of delight.

"Where is she living now?"

Beaumarchef was utterly overwhelmed by this simple question. For the
first time in his life he had omitted to take a client's address. This
omission made Mascarin so angry that he forgot all his good manners, and
broke out with an oath that would have shamed a London cabman,--

"How could you be such an infernal fool? We have been hunting for this
woman for five months. You knew this as well as I did, and yet, when