“Yet there is a slight mistake, pardon me, Monsieur,” added the former, “in the understanding that Monsieur your brother had continued this pension, which is alluded to, during the late years. It was indeed paid with regularity, when transmitted; but although the promise remained subsequently, yet, after a certain point, by some omission, doubtless, the effects—the sums—ceased to arrive. I believe the inadvertency was, however, more than once reported from this office to the notary of M. de Vilby at Ezzeterre, in England—eh, Maître Robert?” And the clerk, to whom he again turned sharply, gave a reverential affirmative. It was not merely the revival of this trivial matter in this way that troubled Sir Godfrey; there was some slight concern stirred at his heart by the discovery of the slight sum having failed so long to reach its object, mixed with a little compunction at his remembrance of the crowded Cité, near the religious shadows of Notre Dame, which he had passed by that very day; there was a vivid feeling once more, too, of his brother’s characteristic carelessness, which was by no means lessened on recollecting his wife’s mild remark, when he had mentioned the circumstance, that possibly, if the person were very poor, it might have been better to see into it personally. The gross mingling of M. Blaise’s inquiries in it, besides, with his hint at crimes which might render the benefit undeserved, annoyed him. Sir Godfrey took the paper from the banker’s hands, expressed his intention of managing the matter at his own leisure, and with a hasty bow rode homewards.