Vinal had three quarters of an hour to spare. He spent a part of them in forging the next link of his chain. At four he rejoined Morton, and they walked out together.
"I think you'll like Professor Speyer," said Vinal. "I have become quite intimate with him, on the strength of a fortnight's acquaintance. He urges me to go to Hungary and Transylvania, and offered me introductions to his friends there. It would not be a bad plan for you to ask him for letters. They would not make you acquainted with the Austrian haut ton, but they would bring you into contact with men of his own stamp,—people of knowledge and intelligence, who could be of great service to you, and with whom you needn't be on terms of much ceremony.—Here's the place;—he lives here."
It was a lodging house on the Rue Rivoli. Vinal rang the bell. The porter appeared.
"Is Professor Speyer at home?"
"Non, monsieur; il est sorti."
Vinal had just bribed the man to give this answer.
"That's unlucky," he said. "Well, if you like, we can come again this evening."
"I am engaged to dine this evening at Madame ——'s."
Vinal had known of this engagement.
"I don't see, then, but that you will lose your chance with Speyer. Well, fortune de guerre. I should like to have had you see him, though."