Septimus Marvin lurched onward one or two steps, with long loose strides. Then he clutched his carpet-bag with both hands and looked back at his interlocutor, with the scared eyes of a detected criminal. This gave place to the habitual gentle smile when, at last, the recognition was complete. "What have you got there?" asked Turner, pointing with his stick at the carpet-bag. "A kitten?" "No--no," replied Marvin, looking this way and that, to make sure that none could overhear. "A Nanteuil--engraved from his own drawing, Jack--a real Nanteuil. I have just been to a man I know--the print-shop opposite the statue on the Quai Voltaire--to have my own opinion verified. I was sure of it. He says that I am undoubtedly right. It is a genuine Nanteuil--a proof before letters." "Ah! And you have just picked it up cheap? Picked it up, eh?" "No, no, quite the contrary," Marvin replied, in a confidential whisper. "Stolen--dear, dear! I am sorry to hear that, Septimus." And Septimus Marvin broke into the jerky, spasmodic laugh of one who has not laughed for long--perhaps for years. "Ah, Jack," he said; "you are still up to a joke." "Well, I should hope so. We are quite close to my club. Come, and have luncheon, and tell me all about it." So the Social and Sporting Club, renowned at that day for its matchless cuisine and for nothing else of good repute at all, entertained an angel unawares, and was much amused at Septimus Marvin's appearance, although the amusement was not apparent. The members, it would appear, were gentlemen of that good school of old France which, like many good things both French and English, is fast disappearing. And with all those faults, which we are so ready to perceive in any Frenchman, there is none on earth who will conceal from you so effectually the fact that in his heart he is vastly amused. It was with some difficulty that Septimus was persuaded to consign his carpet-bag to the custody of the hall-porter. "If it wasn't a Nanteuil," he explained in a whisper to his friend, "I should have no hesitation; for I am sure the man is honest and in every way to be relied upon. But a Nanteuil--_ad vivum_--Jack. There are none like him. It is priceless." "You used not to be a miser," said Turner, panting on the stairs, when at last the bag was concealed in a safe place. "What matter what the value may be, so long as you like it?" "Oh! but the value is of great importance," answered Septimus, rather sheepishly. "Then you have changed a good deal since you and I were at Ipswich school together. There, sit down at this table. I suppose you are hungry. I hope you are. Try and think--there's a good fellow--and remember that they have the best cook in Paris here. Their morals ain't of the first water, but their cook is without match. Yes, you have changed a good deal, if you think of money." Septimus Marvin had changed colour, at all events, in the last few minutes.