are two German gentlemen acting as equerries, and an English
captain, a sort of A.D.C. to the Duke, and two elderly ladies,
and eight servants. They travel very simple, sir, and their
people are in undress livery. Brown and red, sir."

Carlton pretended not to listen to this. He had begun to
doubt but that Nolan's zeal would lead him into some
indiscretion, and would end disastrously to himself. He spent
the evening alone in front of the Cafe de la Paix, pleasantly
occupied in watching the life and movement of that great
meeting of the highways. It did not seem possible that he had
ever been away. It was as though he had picked up a book and
opened it at the page and place at which he had left off
reading it a moment before. There was the same type, the same
plot, and the same characters, who were doing the same
characteristic things. Even the waiter who tipped out his
coffee knew him; and he knew, or felt as though he knew, half
of those who passed, or who shared with him the half of the
sidewalk. The women at the next table considered the slim,
good-looking young American with friendly curiosity, and the
men with them discussed him in French, until a well-known
Parisian recognized Carlton in passing, and hailed him
joyously in the same language, at which the women laughed and
the men looked sheepishly conscious.

On the following morning Carlton took up his post in the open
court of the Meurice, with his coffee and the Figaro to
excuse his loitering there. He had not been occupied with
these over-long before Nolan approached him, in some
excitement, with the information that their Royal