“Yes, which I discovered quite by chance when working with the General. That is the peculiarity of this powder, which, under ordinary conditions, is destructive enough, being ignited by simple friction—in a word, very dangerous to use; but which, employed according to our method, is under perfect control, and regulates its dynamic effects, even to the movement of a pendulum, according to my pleasure.” All present were listening attentively, thinking of the importance of this discovery, and the wretched fate of its initiator. M. Baradier said— “To-morrow you shall have your money. If the affair is worth merely the hundredth part of what you claim, Geneviève will be rich and Trémont world-famed.” “As for the Explosives Company,” added Graff, “it is in a bad way. Lichtenbach is likely to have met his match at last!” CHAPTER III IT was five months since Marcel had solemnly promised his father to break with his giddy companions, give up his fast life, and no longer set foot in the club, but, instead of all this, to work and obliterate the acts of folly he had previously committed. Scrupulously keeping his word, he withdrew to Ars, and only seldom appeared in Paris. So well had he worked that the result of his efforts were manifest. The Minister, after the conversation he had had with Marcel, had expressed himself to Baradier, concerning the young savant, in such terms that the father was quite disarmed. All these deprivations of rights, which he had patiently submitted to, were now removed, and, not without considerable satisfaction, this fine young fellow of twenty-six years of age had resumed his former habits. The first time he appeared at the club he had been welcomed with open arms by his companions, young and old alike. “What has become of you; we have seen nothing of you for several months! Probably you have been travelling?” Marcel replied that he had indeed been away from Paris, but added that he had been thinking seriously concerning gambling, and had determined to give up baccarat. “How often have I heard you talk in that way,” said the Baron de Vergins. “All the same, you could not resist the temptation to play if you were in front of the baccarat-table a single quarter of an hour!” “Come along, then, and you will see.” They passed into the large room. Beneath the ceiling floated a grey mist of tobacco smoke, like a fog. On either side of the room was a green table, around which thronged a crowd of sour-visaged punters. “Ah! You have two baccarat-tables now,” remarked Marcel. “Yes; it is an innovation. At the one the minimum stake is a louis; at the other, it is ten francs. So that, when a punter has had a run of ill-luck at the large table, he goes to the small one to try and recoup, with the privilege of returning afterwards to the other, to lose once more what he may have won.” “Very ingenious. A double sieve from which nothing escapes!”