My carefully planned _coup_ had failed. You can imagine how I felt about such a fiasco and how very quickly I had to think. Here was my first big chance and I had thoroughly and hopelessly bungled it. Limantour was already stirring. The blow he had received had purposely been made light. If he recovered to find himself robbed merely of an insignificant sum of money and some papers his suspicions would be aroused. I could not hope for another chance at him. I knew that Limantour was too clever not to sense something other than ordinary robbery in such an attack upon him. Furthermore my Apaches had to be bluffed and deceived as thoroughly as he was. I had promised them a victim who carried loads of money and at the few coins they had obtained there was much growling. Luckily I had a flash of sense. I resolved to turn the mishap to my advantage. “We hit the wrong night, that’s all,” I muttered. “You take the coins and get away. I am going to try to fool him.” Like rats they scurried away. When Limantour came to he found a very solicitous young man concerned with his welfare. “I saw them from down the street,” I told him, “they evidently knocked you out, but they cleared out when I came. Did they get anything from you? Here seem to be some letters.” And from the sidewalk I picked up and restored to him the papers I had taken from his pockets, not two minutes before. Limantour accepted them and I knew that my audacity had triumphed. “They are not of very much importance,” said Limantour, “and I had only a few francs on me.” Then suddenly, as if he just realized that he was alive and unharmed, Jose Limantour began to thank me for my assistance. I thought of those who had told me he was a cold, hard distant man. Limantour flung his arms around my neck. I was his savior! I was a very brave young gentleman. If I had not come up so boldly and promptly to his aid, he might have been very badly beaten, perhaps even killed. For all he knew he owed me his life. He must thank me. He must know his preserver. Here was his card. Might he have mine? I had been wise enough to keep some of my old cards when I changed the rest of my personality from the Grand Hotel to Montmartre. I gave him one of them. “A German,” he exclaimed, “and a worthy representative of that worthy race.” Limantour was enchanted. “And you live at the Grand Hotel?” That was better still. I was only a sojourner in Paris and one might venture to offer me hospitality—no? Next day he would send around a formal invitation to come and dine at his house and meet his family. They would be delighted to meet this brave and intrepid hero and would also wish to thank me.