Frenchman nodded familiarly.

"Is he up yet?" he inquired, and called the man by his Christian name.

"This hour, monsieur," replied the servant, leading the way along a
narrow corridor. He opened a door, and stood aside for Deulin to pass
into a comfortably furnished room, where Cartoner was seated at a
writing-table.

"Good-morning," said the Frenchman. As he passed the table he took up a
book and went towards the window, where he sat down in a deep arm-chair.
"Don't let me disturb you," he continued. "Finish what you are doing."

"News?" inquired Cartoner, laying aside his pen. He looked at
Deulin gravely beneath his thoughtful brows. They were marvellously
dissimilar--these friends.

"Bah!" returned Deulin, throwing aside the book he had picked
up--Lelewel's _History of Poland_, in Polish. "I trouble for your
future, Cartoner. You take life so seriously--you, who need not work
at all. Even uncles cannot live forever, and some day you will be in a
position to lend money to poor devils of French diplomatists. Think of
that!"

He reflected for a moment.

"Yes," he said, after a pause, "I have news of all sorts--news which
goes to prove that you are quite right to take an apartment instead
of going to the hotel. The Mangles arrived here this morning--Mangles
frere, Mangles soeur, and Miss Cahere. I say, Cartoner--" He paused, and