"Dead! . . . So Pierre Leduc is dead? . . . The whole Kesselbach case obviously turned on him, and now he disappears . . . without a revelation, without a word about himself, about his past. . . . Ought I to embark on this adventure, in which I am still entirely in the dark? It's dangerous. . . . I may come to grief. . . ." He reflected for a moment and exclaimed: "Oh, who cares? I shall go on for all that. It's no reason, because Pierre Leduc is dead, that I should throw up the game. On the contrary! And the opportunity is too tempting! Pierre Leduc is dead! Long live Pierre Leduc! . . . Go, Doctor, go home. I shall ring you up before dinner." The doctor went out. "Now then, Philippe," said Sernine to his last remaining visitor, a little gray-haired man, dressed like a waiter at a hotel, a very tenth-rate hotel, however. "You will remember, governor," Philippe began, "that last week, you made me go as boots to the Hôtel des Deux-Empereurs at Versailles, to keep my eye on a young man." "Yes, I know. . . . Gérard Baupré. How do things stand with him?" "He's at the end of his resources." "Still full of gloomy ideas?" "Yes. He wants to kill himself." "Is he serious?" "Quite. I found this little note in pencil among his papers." "Ah!" said Sernine, reading the note. "He announces his suicide . . . and for this evening too!" "Yes, governor, he has bought the rope and screwed the hook to the ceiling. Thereupon, acting on your instructions, I talked to him. He told me of his distress, and I advised him to apply to you: 'Prince Sernine is rich,' I said; 'he is generous; perhaps he will help you.'" "All this is first-rate. So he is coming?" "He is here." "How do you know?" "I followed him. He took the train to Paris, and he is walking up and down the boulevard at this minute. He will make up his mind from one moment to the other." Just then the servant brought in a card. The prince glanced at it and said to the man: "Show M. Gérard Baupré in." Then, turning to Philippe: "You go into the dressing-room, here; listen and don't stir." Left alone, the prince muttered: "Why should I hesitate? It's fate that sends him my way. . . ." A few minutes later a tall young man entered. He was fair and slender, with an emaciated face and feverish eyes, and he stood on the threshold embarrassed, hesitating, in the attitude of a beggar who would like to put out his hand for alms and dares not. The conversation was brief: "Are you M. Gérard Baupré?" "Yes . . . yes . . . that is my name." "I have not the honor . . ." "It's like this, sir. . . . Some one told me . . ." "Who?" "A hotel servant . . . who said he had been in your service. . . ." "Please come to the point. . . ." "Well! . . ." The young man stopped, taken aback and frightened by the haughty attitude adopted by the prince, who exclaimed: "But, sir, there must be some . . ."