"Ah, delighted to see you again, my dear madame," said the financier, as he shook hands in the most friendly manner. "I trust you have fully recovered from your indisposition of the last evening?"
"Thank you, my dear M. Payot," replied the good lady smiling, "and I also hope that you have recovered from your fight."
"My fight, madame. What do you mean? I have not fought anyone since my justly celebrated duel with M. Camembert, editor of the Journal de Paris fifteen years ago."
"Why, I mean your fight with Marcel last evening."
"My fight with Marcel? My dear madame, surely you must be dreaming? I never had a quarrel with my little friend Marcel in all my life. Isn't it the truth, Villebois?" and Payot, completely mystified, appealed to his host for confirmation.
Poor Villebois looked terrified.
"For God's sake, my dear, do be quiet," he whispered, and then added in a louder tone, "Pray excuse my wife, she has been reading a dreadful account of a fight between the police and the Apaches. That, I fear, added to her nervous headache has completely confused her mind about the events of last evening."
The good lady was about to remonstrate with her husband, when Céleste with great tact soothed her feelings, and adroitly turned her thoughts in another direction.
Payot, apparently satisfied, accepted the explanation, and at length order and peace were established, and everyone sat breathlessly waiting for the professor.
Seeing that everything was at last quiet, and that all his audience were composed and ready, Delapine, who had been assuring himself that his instructions with regard to the cabinet had been properly attended to, moved towards the centre of the room and said: