Ben Byers, mused the inspector-what a wonderful old boy! It was a deuced suspicious circumstance that he should have referred so pointedly to Brother Neel.

"Well, he has picked out a business quarter for his operations, whatever they may be," thought the inspector -"and, by George, he's quite capable of entering into business, bonâ fide, and of making money at it!" On the ground-floor stood the show-rooms of an ostrich-feather importer, and the counting-house of an agent for the "Delectable" sewing-machines, extremely cheap, and made in Germany. At the end of the wide passagethe door opposite the staircase-you perceived the entrance to the workshop of the new platinum piano; whilst across the yard, around a window well lighted by reflectors, a bevy of young girls employed in Madame Truffière's artificial-flower factory could be seen, pallid and laborious, bending over the foci of irritant poisons which necessarily permeated the air they breathed. Upstairs, on the first floor, the inspector found himself confronted by a dentist's showcase. To the left lay the dentist's rooms. To the right lay the offices of "M. de Bingham, Agent pour les Assurances," etc. On the second, third, and fourth floors were other business premises. A caneseated bench, much out of repair, and very dusty, stood against the wall.

It was the unpretentious aspect of the Vicomte's quarters that impressed Inspector Byde. He would be hanged if the whole thing didn't look bona fide, repeated Mr. Bingham's old acqaintance. "Insurance and General Foreign Agent," he read in English on the door facing the bright silver plate and regal bell-rope of M. Melliflu, Dentiste Lyonnais. But the Vicomte formed a suspicious feature. And yet the commercial methods of

Half the

all countries did not run upon identical lines. routine of a business man consists of asking for some one thing or another, thought Mr. Byde; and in a Republic it was quite natural that advantages should flow rather towards the solicitant armed with the symbols or the semblances of rank.

He pushed at Mr. Bingham's office-door. It appeared to have been hung in such a way as to swing easily upon its hinges; but it would not open. He pushed again. This time he heard again the faintest tremor possible of an electric bell- -a sound which was gone before he could say he had seized it—a tiny vibration which, as a full-blooded man, Mr. Byde might have put down to a "singing in the ears"-a warning signal which at first he had not been quite sure that he detected.

He waited, but the door did not open. The inspector then observed a square ivory button in a small recess at the side of Mr. Bingham's door. A neat brass plate invited callers to "Turn the button, s.v.p." The inspector twisted the ivory button, and quite a loud, honest, reassuring bell-like note at once rang out. What could it have been that thereupon brought a smile to the inspector's countenance?

Mr. Bingham's office-door unlatched with an abrupt jerk. The visitor stepped across the threshold, but a high partition shut off his view of the interior. He had just entered in time to catch the dull bang of-apparently—a mahogany drawer, sharply closed. Footsteps resounded on a polished floor, and the pink, pear-shaped visage of grandpa, with the short strip of white whisker. on each cheek, then appeared round the edge of the partition.

"I beg pardon, sir," said the inspector, assuming an Passenger from Scotland Yard,

15

air of innocent inquiry-"the Vicomte de Bingham— might he happen to be about?"

"Sir," replied Mr. Bingham, in a corresponding vein, "that good old man is not-and I regret the circumstance-at this present moment in the immediate neighbourhood. The Vicomte, sir, has been summoned by the ruler of a friendly Power, the admirer at a distance of his talents (not to say genius), and of his numerous (not to say innumerable) philanthropic, solemn, and valuable (not to say invaluable) sacrifices, enterprises, and achievements, to resign himself to that which in the case of any other personage, it mattereth not how eminent, would constitute a dignity, favour, or recompense-to undergo, videlicet, the form and ceremonial of a State investiture with the most ancient Order of Merit at the disposal of his most gracious and alien Majesty. The Vicomte is an aged man-but rare, sir, most rare!"

"I have come a long way to see the Vicomte. step inside and wait for his return."

I'll

"Pray, sir, step in! Step in, sir, and make yourself at home! I am his little boy."

"What!-Benjamin?"

"The same, sir; Benjamin, Joseph's brother, whom Jacob sent not with his brethren; for he said, "Lest peradventure mischief befall him,"-strangely resembling one who had been sometimes called Old Ben Byers--' "Innocent Ben,' gentlemen of the jury; never convicted hitherto, but always guilty!'"

"As your lordship pleases!" Mr. Bingham shut the door and affably escorted his visitor to the other side of the partition.

"A dd strange move this,-Benny, old boy! What's the meaning of it all?" The inspector surveyed

the business premises of Mr. Bingham, and made cluck ing noises with his tongue.

"The meaning of it?' Ha! Scotland Yard spoke there. It means, grave and reverend Byde, that this is the hive of the bee-the honey-stored hive of the busy, busy bee! Sit down, my boy; glad to see you! Take that arm-chair; and if you care for a good cigar-there's something contraband." He pushed a box over the table.

Mr. Byde sank into the seat indicated. He found that it placed him in the full light of the window, and with his back to the door. Mr. Bingham took the seat opposite. The table which separated them was a sort of half-bureau, in mahogany. On the right and left hand of Mr. Bingham, who appeared to have installed himself in his habitual place, rows of drawers extended from the level of the table downwards to the ground. "Ah, we work hard," proceeded the host. "The insurance business is about half developed in this country. But we do our best to teach them. We try to rescue the public from the perils of their own thriftlessness. Within these walls we indite the flowing phrase; within these walls we bid the quarterly commission a hearty welcome!"

"We?"

"Myself, and sleeping partner. Clerks? Oh yes, we keep a staff of clerks-two; and their desks are in that inner room. One, however, I have just dismissed. The rascal was robbing me. The other is a very gentlemanly youth-out just now-confided to me with a premium by his widowed mother, who desired to have her son instructed in English ways of business and in the English language. Touching-these maternal ambitions and this trust. Lucky the good lady fell into my hands! There

are scoundrels about who would have fleeced her without mercy; and the premium came in just at a convenient moment. Pretty good premium-and paid down on the nail. The young man writes my letters for me, and helps me with the French clients. I have sent him off with a fire-policy, to the other side of Paris. He likes going out, I notice; and I'm sure I haven't the least objection. He needn't come back at all, unless he likes. One or two more of them, with even bigger premiums, would not do the business any harm!"

"Nothing in that, I suppose?" remarked the inspector, nodding in the direction of a massive safe.

"Nothing whatever," acquiesced his host. "Obliged to keep it there, though. Looks well: gives people confidence. Oh, we bank all our money at once! Wouldn't do to keep it on the premises. Risk too great. Lot of rogues about. D-d strange thing that you can't trust your fellow-creatures!"

"And so you have other little irons in the fire besides insurance?"

"Yes, yes yes, yes!-take a glass of malaga?"

The visitor objected that it was too early in the after

noon.

While Mr. Bingham helped himself from a buffet that looked like a bookcase, and chatted about reviving trade, the inspector took further mental notes of the spacious interior. His eye appraised the elegantly upholstered chairs, fauteuils, and couch, the pictures on the walls, the buffet-every article of furniture. On one of the ebony fluted columns rested a marble bust of the First Napoleon; on another, a bronze figure of Gambetta. Some common vases on the mantelpiece were filled with fresh flowers; brackets in the angles of the room, and a handsome étagère, supported ornaments more suitable to