Vandeloup congratulated Madame Midas on her luck when he was going away, and privately determined that he would not lose sight of her, as, being a wealthy woman, and having a liking for him, she would be of great use. He took his farewell gracefully, and went away, carrying the good wishes of all the miners; but McIntosh and Selina, still holding to their former opinion, were secretly pleased at his departure. Madame Midas made him a present of a hundred pounds, and, though he refused it, saying that he had money from France, she asked him as a personal favour to take it; so M. Vandeloup, always gallant to ladies, could not refuse. He went in to Ballarat, and put up at the Wattle Tree Hotel, intending to start for the metropolis next morning; but on his way, in order to prepare Kitty for his coming, sent a telegram for her, telling her the train he would arrive by, in order that she might be at the station to meet him. After his dinner he suddenly recollected that he still had the volume which Dr Gollipeck had lent him, so, calling a cab, he drove to the residence of that eccentric individual to return it. When the servant announced M. Vandeloup, she pushed him in and suddenly closed the door after her, as though she was afraid of some of the doctor’s ideas getting away. ‘Good evening, doctor,’ said Vandeloup, laying the book down on the table at which Gollipeck was seated; ‘I’ve come to return you this and say good-bye.’ ‘Aha, going away?’ asked Gollipeck, leaning back in his chair, and looked sharply at the young man through his spectacles, ‘right--see the world--you’re clever--won’t go far wrong--no!’ ‘It doesn’t matter much if I do,’ replied Vandeloup, shrugging his shoulders, and taking a chair, ‘nobody will bother much about me.’ ‘Eh!’ queried the doctor, sharply, sitting up. ‘Paris--friends--relations.’ ‘My only relation is an aunt with a large family; she’s got quite enough to do looking after them, without bothering about me,’ retorted M. Vandeloup; ‘as to friends--I haven’t got one.’ ‘Oh!’ from Gollipeck, with a cynical smile, ‘I see; let us say--acquaintances.’ ‘Won’t make any difference,’ replied Vandeloup, airily; ‘I turned my acquaintances into friends long ago, and then borrowed money off them; result: my social circle is nil. Friends,’ went on M. Vandeloup, reflectively, ‘are excellent as friends, but damnable as bankers.’ Gollipeck chuckled, and rubbed his hands, for this cynicism pleased him. Suddenly his eye caught the book which the young man had returned. ‘You read this?’ he said, laying his hand on it; ‘good, eh?’ ‘Very good, indeed,’ returned M. Vandeloup, smoothly; ‘so kind of you to have lent it to me--all those cases quoted were known to me.’ ‘The case of Adele Blondet, for instance, eh?’ asked the old man sharply. ‘Yes, I was present at the trial,’ replied Vandeloup, quietly; ‘the prisoner Octave Braulard was convicted, condemned to death, reprieved, and sent to New Caledonia.’