"And you have taken no other steps to secure your rights to a piece of
property which legally belongs to you?"

"No, not till now."

"You mean to say virtually that there is in Paris a house which has no
owner, is forgotten by everybody, and unknown even to the tax-gatherer?"

"I beg your pardon! The taxes have always been regularly paid; and the
whole neighborhood knows that I am the owner. But the individuality is
not the same. I have unceremoniously assumed the identity of my friend.
In the eyes of the neighbors, the small dealers near by, the workmen and
contractors whom I have employed, for the servants and the gardener, I
am Sir Francis Burnett. Ask them about Jacques de Boiscoran, and they
will tell you, 'Don't know.' Ask them about Sir Francis Burnett, and
they will answer, 'Oh, very well!' and they will give you my portrait."

M. Magloire shook his head as if he were not fully convinced.

"Then," he asked again, "you declare that the Countess Claudieuse has
been at this house?"

"More than fifty times in three years."

"If that is so, she must be known there."

"No."

"But"--