A strange rumor was in circulation among the guests. Many of them declared--where could they have heard such a thing?--that in consequence of a quarrel with her husband, Madame Trigault had left Paris the evening before. They even went so far as to repeat her parting words to the Baron: “You will never see me again,” she had said. “You are amply avenged. Farewell!” However, the best informed among the guests, the folks who were thoroughly acquainted with all the scandals of the day, declared the story false, and said that if the baroness had really fled, handsome Viscount de Coralth would not appear so calm and smiling. The report WAS true, however. But M. de Coralth did not trouble himself much about the baroness now. Had he not got in his pocket M. Wilkie’s signature insuring him upward of half a million? Standing near one of the windows in the main reception-room, between the Marquis de Valorsay and M. Wilkie, the brilliant viscount was gayly chatting with them, when a footman, in a voice loud enough to interrupt all conversation, suddenly announced: “M. Maumejan!” It seemed such a perfectly natural thing to M. de Valorsay that Maumejan, as one of the baron’s business agents, should be received at his house, that he was not in the least disturbed. But M. de Coralth, having heard the name, wished to see the man who had aided and advised the marquius so effectually. He abruptly turned, and as he did so the words he would have spoken died upon his lips. He became livid, his eyes seemed to start from their sockets, and it was with difficulty that he ejaculated: “He!” “Who?” inquired the astonished marquis. “Look!” M. de Valorsay did so, and to his utter amazement he perceived a numerous party in the rear of the man announced under the name of Maumejan. First came Mademoiselle Marguerite, leaning on the arm of the white-haired magistrate, and then Madame Ferailleur; next M. Isidore Fortunat, and finally Chupin--Victor Chupin, resplendent in a handsome, bran-new, black dress-suit. The marquis could no longer fail to understand the truth. He realized who Maumejan really was, and the audacious comedy he had been duped by. He was so frightfully agitated that five or six persons sprang forward exclaiming: “What is the matter, marquis? Are you ill?” But he made no reply. He felt that he was caught in a trap, and he glanced wildly around him seeking for some loophole of escape.