"I must confess, old fellow, that I am not burning with desire to
get mixed up in this mess, or to go and ask Madame Plumet for the
explanation which her husband was unable to give me. I shall bide
my time. If anything turns up to-morrow, they are sure to tell me,
and I will write you word.

"My mother sends you her love, and begs you to wrap up warmly in the
evening; she says the twilight is the winter of hot climates.

"The dear woman has been a little out of sorts for the last two
days. Today she is keeping her bed. I trust it is nothing but a
cold.

"Your affectionate friend,

"SYLVESTRE LAMPRON."




CHAPTER XIII

STARTLING NEWS FROM SYLVESTRE

MILAN, June 18th.

The examination of documents began this morning. I never thought we
should have such a heap to examine, nor papers of such a length. The
first sitting passed almost entirely in classifying, in examining