CHAPTER XX.

MR. LE MOYNE OF PARIS.

Guy found Scott in his office, and he fancied that he looked a little careworn, but he dared not question him in regard to his trouble, lest Scott should think him presumptuous. He really pitied him, but Scott gave him no opportunity to make a suggestion. In fact, he seemed bent on leading him to other subjects.

A stranger entered the office and requested a private interview with Lawyer Wilmer, and Guy, after making known his errand, took his leave. Paul was busy in an adjoining room, attending to some correspondence.

"Are we alone?" the stranger asked.

"Yes, with the exception of my valet, who is in the adjoining room, busy with writing."

"Is he reliable?"

"As much so as myself."

The stranger, who gave his name as Antonio Le Moyne, was a man somewhat below the medium height. His features were even and delicately molded, and his large, round black eyes beamed with a look of deep intelligence. His beard was black and flowing, and his complexion clear and dark. His air was that of a person extremely well bred. "I will see you again," he said, after a long and earnest conversation with Scott.

"The groundwork is very slight," said Scott, "but I will do my best, and perhaps with what evidence you may be able to furnish, we may find something to start on; but of course the utmost caution will be necessary on the part of both of us."

The stranger bowed and left the room.

"I believe I have seen that face before," said Scott to himself. "If not, I have seen one very much like it."

"Who is he?" Paul asked, stepping into the room.

"A gentleman lately from Paris--a Mr. Le Moyne."

"He is a good English scholar, I judge, from what I heard of his conversation."

"As good as you or I."

"The correspondence is all finished," said Paul, "and if you have no further use for me I will go home."

Scott replied that he no longer needed him, and Paul took his leave.

He did not hear all the conversation which passed between Scott and the stranger, but he had heard some remarks which set him to thinking deeply. He reached home, and sitting down before the grate, fell into a deep reverie.

"It is strange, very strange," he said. "Good heavens! But pshaw, what a simpleton I am! How I dread the time when it comes. But I must be brave, like--Scott. How very brave he is--a very god in heroism. The woman who cast him off for that hollow headed villain is a fit subject for the lunatic asylum, and her companion a knave of the deepest dye."

Paul sat for some time in deep thought; then he went to seek June. She was in the parlor entertaining a lady who had called.