"That seems to establish him all right," said Mr. Bingle.

Rouquin and Jean reappeared. Both were smiling cheerfully. Jean
affected a somewhat degage manner and a perceptible swagger.

"Very well, M'sieur," he said. "I'll swear to it."

"Then I shall leave the details to my attorney, who, you will
discover, is a most conscientious, dependable person. In the meantime,
when will it be convenient for Dr. Fiddler to examine Napoleon?"

Rouquin explained at some length in rapid French, and Madame Rousseau
was once more consoled. Jean appeared to be somewhat bored. He yawned,
in fact.

"And now," cried Monsieur Rouquin in a great voice, "I have a plan.
Let us celebrate the birth of Monsieur Napoleon Bingle by dining
together at Pierre's. This day he is born again--or, at least,
prospectively born. Life for him really begins to-day--the sixth of
March. It is my treat! I shall be the host on this memorable occasion.
Pierre shall give to us the best duckling in his larder and the rarest
bottle of--"

"But my dear Rouquin," began Mr. Bingle.

"I implore you, kind friend, to honour me with your presence this
evening. The greatest day of my life shall be this one if you but
consent to grace my board with your lovely lady. And poor Madame
Rousseau and her amiable husband shall not be the ghosts at the feast,