“I will call and see it--au revoir! Take my advice and leave Paris; I think I have seen you somewhere!” “Yet I have never had the honour to marry monsieur!” said Mr. Love, with a polite bow. In return for his joke, the policeman gave Mr. Love one look--it was a quiet look, very quiet; but Mr. Love seemed uncommonly affected by it; he did not say another word, but found himself outside the house in a twinkling. Monsieur Favart turned round and saw the Pole making himself as small as possible behind the goodly proportions of Madame Beavor. “What name does that gentleman go by?” “So--vo--lofski, the heroic Pole,” cried Madame Beavor, with sundry misgivings at the unexpected cowardice of so great a patriot. “Hein! take care of yourselves, ladies. I have nothing against that person this time. But Monsieur Latour has served his apprenticeship at the galleys, and is no more a Pole than I am a Jew.” “And this lady’s fortune!” cried Monsieur Groupille, pathetically; “the settlements are all made--the notaries all paid. I am sure there must be some mistake.” Monsieur Bihl, who had by this time restored his lost Helen to her senses, stalked up to the epicier, dragging the lady along with him. “Sir, there is no mistake! But, when I have got the money, if you like to have the lady you are welcome to her.” “Monstre!” again muttered the fair Adele. “The long and the short of it,” said Monsieur Favart, “is that Monsieur Bihl is a brave garcon, and has been half over the world as a courier.” “A courier!” exclaimed several voices. “Madame was nursery-governess to an English milord. They married, and quarrelled--no harm in that, mes amis; nothing more common. Monsieur Bihl is a very faithful fellow; nursed his last master in an illness that ended fatally, because he travelled with his doctor. Milord left him a handsome legacy--he retired from service, and fell ill, perhaps from idleness or beer. Is not that the story, Monsieur Bihl?” “He was always drunk--the wretch!” sobbed Adele. “That was to drown my domestic sorrows,” said the German; “and when I was sick in my bed, madame ran off with my money. Thanks to monsieur, I have found both, and I wish you a very good night.” “Dansez-vous toujours, mes amis,” said the officer, bowing. And following Adele and her spouse, the little man left the room--where he had caused, in chests so broad and limbs so doughty, much the same consternation as that which some diminutive ferret occasions in a burrow of rabbits twice his size. Morton had outstayed Mr. Love. But he thought it unnecessary to linger long after that gentleman’s departure; and, in the general hubbub that ensued, he crept out unperceived, and soon arrived at the bureau. He found Mr. Love and Mr. Birnie already engaged in packing up their effects. “Why--when did you leave?” said Morton to Mr. Birnie. “I saw the policeman enter.” “And why the deuce did not you tell us?” said Gawtrey.