“Yes, a nice house with a large garden, in Vine Street, Passy.”
“And you own it still?”
“Yes.”
“Of course you have the title-papers?”
Jacques looked in despair.
“Here, again, fate is against me. There is quite a tale connected with that house.”
The features of the Sauveterre lawyer grew dark again, much quicker than they had brightened up just now.
“Ah!” he said,—“a tale, ah!”
“I was scarcely of age,” resumed Jacques, “when I wanted to purchase this house. I dreaded difficulties. I was afraid my father might hear of it; in fine, I wanted to be as prudent as the countess was. I asked, therefore, one of my English friends, Sir Francis Burnett, to purchase it in his name. He agreed; and he handed me, with the necessary bills of sale, also a paper in which he acknowledged my right as proprietor.”
“But then”—