Presently he saw Marcel come out of the house and hurry past. Emile watched him drive off in a fiacre, and hurried after him on foot, seeking all the time in vain for some means of overtaking him. Five minutes or more elapsed, but no vehicle could be seen. At length Emile threw up his hands in despair, and was on the point of abandoning the task as hopeless, when he saw a private motor-car coming along with two men inside. As he rushed into the middle of the road and waved his hands in front of the advancing car, the chauffeur brought the powerful Mercèdes to a stand, and demanded an explanation of the stoppage. "A thousand pardons, gentlemen," said Emile, assuming a most bewitching smile of the very latest pattern, "but my car has broken down, and it is imperative that I should reach my club in the Avenue de l'Opera immediately. If I might trespass on your kindness, and ask you to drive me?" The two men looked at each other and hesitated, but Emile handed them his visiting card with an elegant flourish, and a courtly bow. The card handed to the occupants of the Mercèdes bore a crown in the centre, and in ornamental copperplate letters appeared underneath:-- [Illustration: _Le Comte de Saint-Beuve._ _Chateau de Forest, Fontainbleau._] This at once decided the case, and delighted that they had a gentleman of such good rank and courtly bearing for a companion, they had no hesitation in granting his request, and cordially inviting him to be seated, they drove away to the club. As the car pulled up at the entrance, one of the pages opened the door, and Emile, shaking hands with his two friends, majestically stepped out. Mounting the steps in a dignified manner, he passed by the portier as if the place belonged to him, without even deigning to look round. Entering one of the writing rooms, he hastily scribbled a note, and descending at once he stood at the entrance of the club awaiting the arrival of Marcel. A few minutes afterwards his quarry appeared, and Emile, walking up to him, hat in hand: "Excuse me sir, are you Monsieur Marcel?" "Yes, that is my name. Why do you address me?" "Because Monsieur Pierre Duval gave me this note for you." Marcel looked very surprised at receiving a letter from Pierre as he could not imagine how Pierre could divine that he would call, but he at once took the proffered letter, and tearing open the envelope read as follows:-- "Dear Marcel, I much regret to have missed you, but I have just received an urgent telegram calling me away to defend a case at Orleans which will probably detain me for a few days. A letter addressed to the Hotel de la Pucelle will find me. So sorry to have missed you. A bientôt, Pierre." While Marcel was reading the note Emile passed out of the club, and was speedily lost to sight.