I will not go over the conversation that ensued, since I was myself the principal speaker. Enough if I say that I told him whatever I knew or had heard of the various subdivisions of party: of the decline of the terrorists, and the advent to power of men who, with equal determination and firmness, yet were resolute to uphold the laws and provide for the security of life and property. In the course of this I had to speak of the financial condition of the country; and in the few words that fell from me, came the glimpses of some of that teaching I had obtained from the Herr Robert.
“You appear to have devoted attention to these topics,” said he, with a smile. “They are scarcely the subjects most attractive to youth. How came that to pass?”
“By an accident, sir, that made me acquainted with the son of one who, if not a great financier, was at least the most notorious one the world has ever seen,—Robert Law, of Lauriston.” And at a sign from him to continue, I related the whole incident I referred to. He listened to me throughout with deep attention.
“These papers that you speak of,” said he, interrupting, “would certainly be curious, if not actually valuable. They are still at the Rue Quincampoix?”
“I believe so, sir.”
“Well, the day may come when they may be obtainable. Meanwhile, of this Count, this Monsieur de Gabriac,—for I want to hear more of him,—when did he arrive in England?”
“I did not know that he was here, sir.”
He looked at me calmly, but with great intentness, as I said this; and then, as if satisfied with his scrutiny, drew a small case from his pocket, and, opening it, held it before me.
“Is this a portrait of the Count de Gabriac?”
“Yes, and a striking likeness,” replied I, promptly.