“I’ll tell Mel—my principal what you say,” Brainard laughed back. “Now good day to you, gentlemen, and good hunting!” Herr Adolf shook the young man’s hand cordially. “If you ever want a business—after you have discovered this mysterious heir to Mr. Krutzmacht—why, come over here to me, and I will make a financier of you!” “Thanks!” * * * * * Brainard sauntered slowly down the crowded boulevard. He had before him seven more days of Paris—seven beautiful June days. For he had resolved to give himself one week of pure vacation in Paris as payment for services performed for his unknown principal. Thus seriously did he hold himself to his mission. At the end of the week he would take the first fast steamer for New York, and begin the hunt for an heir for the money he had obtained from old Krutzmacht’s property—for that shadowy Melody whose name so persistently haunted his imagination. But now how best could he spend these last precious hours of freedom and delight which he had well earned? The young American with two million dollars in his pockets paused beside the curb and watched the brilliant stream of Paris life flow past him for many minutes. Then he beckoned to a cab, and drove to a steamship office, where he engaged passage for that day week from Cherbourg. Next he went to a tailor, and ordered clothes to replace his Chicago ready-made suit, which no longer satisfied his aspirations in the way of personal appearance. He did not mean to go shabby any longer, no matter what fate might be in store for him at the close of his present adventure. These necessary duties performed, he betook himself to a famous restaurant near the Madeleine, where he ordered an excellent breakfast. While he ate, he laid his plans. Brainard had made most of his journey through life without congenial companions, but now he felt a desire for companionship. It was another of those hitherto unsuspected capacities that had been stimulated by his recent experiences. He bethought himself of the only human being he knew in all Paris—the amiable Mme. Vernon, his friend of the _Toulouse_; so after his breakfast he proceeded to the Frenchwoman’s hotel. Mme. Vernon welcomed him cordially. “I thought you had returned to America.” “I have another week,” he explained, “and I want you to show me how to spend it. Think of everything that a man twenty-eight years old, who has never had a day’s real vacation in his life, would like to see and do in Paris, and we’ll do it all together. That is, if you can give me the time!” The good-natured Frenchwoman, who had returned to her native country after a long absence in “barbarian lands,” did not seem greatly occupied, and was not averse to spending a few days with this _naïf_ American. She smiled upon Brainard. “It is a serious matter,” she said after meditation, wrinkling her placid brow. “And you must see all?” “Everything!” “In one week!” she cried. “_Allons_—let us start!”