Reflecting on the manner in which M. Wilkie and the Viscount de
Coralth had behaved during the evening, a singular suspicion
assailed him. While M. Wilkie gradually lost his wits, M. de
Coralth had become remarkably cold and reserved. He had seemed to
oppose all M. Wilkie's propositions; but he had agreed to them at
last, so that his objections had produced much the same effect as
a stimulant. It seemed then as if M. de Coralth had some strange
interest in wishing to gain ascendency over his friend. At least
such was Chupin's opinion. "Oh, oh!" he murmured. "What if HE
should be working up the same little scheme? What if he were
acquainted with Madame Lia d'Argeles? What if he knew that there's
a fortune waiting for a claimant? I shouldn't at all be surprised
if I found that he wanted to cook his bread in our oven. But
father Fortunat wouldn't be pleased with the news. Ah! no--he
wouldn't even smile----"
While carrying on this little conversation with himself, he stood
just in front of the restaurant, looking up into the air, when all
of a sudden a window was thrown noisily open, and the figures of
two men became plainly visible. They were engaged in a friendly
struggle; one of them seemed to be trying to seize hold of
something which the other had in his hand, and which he refused to
part with. One of these men was M. Wilkie as Chupin at once
perceived. "Good!" he said to himself; "this is the beginning of
the end!"
As he spoke, M.
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