"Commandant de la Miraudière? I never heard the name before," Louis said to himself, as he examined the card, then, turning it over mechanically, he saw, written in pencil on the other side:
"Mariette Moreau, with Madame Lacombe, Rue des Prêtres St. Germain l'Auxerrois."
For M. de la Miraudière, having jotted down Mariette's address on one of his visiting cards, had, without thinking, written upon the same card the request for an interview which he had left for Louis.
That young man, more and more perplexed, endeavoured in vain to discover what possible connection there could be between Mariette and the stranger who had left the card. After a moment's silence, he said to the porter:
"Did the gentleman leave any other message?"
"He told me to give you the card when your father was not present."
"That is strange," thought the young man.
"What kind of a looking man was he—young or old?" he asked, aloud.
"A very handsome man, M. Louis, a decorated gentleman, with a moustache as black as ink, and very elegantly dressed."
Louis went out with his brain in a whirl. This new revelation increased his anxiety. The most absurd suspicions and fears immediately assailed him, and he forthwith began to ask himself if this stranger were not a rival.