remembered that this strange man had said: "If you ever need a
helping hand, come to me." And at the recollection he made up his
mind. "I am going to Baron Trigault's," he remarked to his
mother; "if my presentiments don't deceive me, he will be of
service to us."

In less than half an hour he was on his way. He had dressed
himself in the oldest clothes he possessed; and this, with the
change he had made by cutting off his hair and beard, had so
altered his appearance that it was necessary to look at him
several times, and most attentively, to recognize him. The
visiting cards which he carried in his pocket bore the
inscription: "P. Maumejan, Business Agent, Route de la Revolte."
His knowledge of Parisian life had induced him to choose the same
profession as M. Fortunat followed--a profession which opens
almost every door. "I will enter the nearest cafe and ask for a
directory," he said to himself. "I shall certainly find Baron
Trigault's address in it."

The baron lived in the Rue de la Ville-l'Eveque. His mansion was
one of the largest and most magnificent in the opulent district of
the Madeleine, and its aspect was perfectly in keeping with its
owner's character as an expert financier, and a shrewd
manufacturer, the possessor of valuable mines. The marvellous
luxury so surprised Pascal, that he asked himself how the owner of
this princely abode could find any pleasure at the gaming table of
the Hotel d'Argeles. Five or six footmen were lounging about the
courtyard when he entered it. He walked straight up to one of
them, and with his hat in his hand, asked: "Baron Trigault, if you
please?"