TH IT* 1 he mnx? s *> A.JL ^mr Jm J^J^JLJkC^, K^/ ARCHIBALD CL AVER ING GUNTHR m. \D/\IR WILSON ^LIBRARY^ The King's Stockbroker The Sequel to "A Princess of Paris A Novel BY ARCHIBALD CLAVERING GUNTER AUTHOR OF MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK," "THAT FRENCHMAN!" "MISS NOBODY OF NOWHERE." NEW YORK THE HOME PUBLISHING CO. 3 EAST FOURTEENTH STREET 1894 COPYRIGHT, 1893, BY A. C. GUNTER. All rights reserved. THE WINTHROP PRESS, 52-54 LAFAYETTE PLACE, NEW YORK. CONTENTS. BOOK I. THE MECCA OF FINANCIERS. PAGE CHAPTER I. Stealing a Galley Slave, - - 5 " II. The Tavern of the Turk's Head, 17 " III. Cousin Charlie Sees a Ghost, 28 " IV. The Brothers Paris, 36 " V. The Naughty Quinault, - 49 " VI. Paris the Bucket-Shop of the World. - - - 6q BOOK II. THE RAID OF THE POLICE. CHAPTER VII. Robbing the Old World, - - 75 " VIII. The Ambush in the Senart Forest, - - 89 " IX. The Empty Coach on the Melun Road, - - - - 100 m X. The Defense of the Auberge, - 107 " XI. Lanty Thinks He's Fighting the Turks, - 115 " XII. "Which Woman?" - -123 " XIII. The Gamekeeper D'Arnac, - 133 4 CONTENTS. BOOK IH. THE STRUGGLE ON THE QUINCAMPOIX. CHAPTER XIV. "That Awful Woman Specu lator! " - 144 " XV. The Battle of the Brokers, - 153 XVI. "The Chevalier Lanigan," - 165 XVII. Lanty's Wedding, - 177 XVIII. The Feast of Belshazzar, - - 188 BOOK IV. JUGGLING WITH FATE. CHAPTER XIX. The Three Lettres de Cachet, - 195 XX. A Comtesse for a Minute, - 204 " XXL The One Marked with the Cross, 217 XXII. "Use This, in the King's Name!" - 221 XXIII. La Quinault's Wedding Gift, - 232 XXIV. An Actress' Love, - - 242 BOOK V. THE FLIGHT FROM FRANCE. CHAPTER XXV. Fickle Paris, - - 253 XXVI. The Last Stand, - 265 XXVIL The Dying Boatswain of La Sylphide, - - , - 277 THE KING'S STOCKBROKER. BOOK I. THE MECCA OF FINANCIERS. CHAPTER I. STEALING A GALLEY SLAVE. IT is the night of the ist of June, 1719. Upon the moonlit waters of the Mediterranean, just out of the port of Marseilles, a King's galley, La Sylphide, is rowing slowly into the harbor. Behind her, the distant lights and fireworks from the Isle Pomegue give the last trace of the great water ffae of Marseilles, that this day has been given to celebrate the making of the city a free port, and the arrival of the first great fleet from Louisiana, bearing the products of the new colony to France ; upon which the Regent, the Due d'Orleans, and his financier, Monseigneur Law, expect to build up the grandest commercial enterprise yet given to the world that of the India Company. The galley slaves are rowing slowly, for their day's work of transporting passengers to the island and towing the ships of the Mississippi squadron has been an awful one, under the burning sun. The free sailors and soldiers are asleep upon the forecastle, tired with firing salutes and cheering for the Regent and Monseigneur Law, 6 THE KING S STOCKBROKER. Upon the center gangplank running through the low waist of the vessel the somnolent boatswain and his mates are not doing their usual flogging, and the cadence of the oars is languid. Upon the high decorated poop at the stern, one or two under officers are asleep. A little apart, upon this poop deck, is a creature just released from his chains, wearing the cap and camisole of a galley slave. Bending over him, with tears in his eyes, is a young man bedecked with the gorgeous uniform of a general of the army of France. An officer of the galley approaches them. " Hush! he is sleeping," whispers the general. "Oh, ho! your format, " laughs Lieutenant Polignac of the galley. " Quiet! don't wake him!" mutters General le Comte d'Arnac, commandant of the port of Marseilles. " Tonnerre de Brest ! you take a good deal of interest in the poor devil," replies the officer of marine. "You give me a thousand crowns to-morrow morning to trans fer a slave from the oar to your shore hospital for infec tious diseases, in which, according to you, mon general, the last attendant galley slave died to-day. Parbleu ! the man would live longer at the oar ! One would think you wished him to die soon." "Perhaps I do," remarks D'Arnac shortly, not anxious to give any one his secret. "Oh, ho ! just put him at the oar again, and for one hundred crowns our comite" will guarantee he will not live the week through." "No, I prefer for him to die my way." "Which means not at all you are so careful of his comfort," remarks Polignac slyly. Raymond can see the man wink in the moonlight. After a minute's pause, he thinks perhaps a half confi dence will be best. "You have guessed it, my sea dog," he replies, clap ping the lieutenant on the shoulder. " I want to make his lot as easy as is consistent with my duty. Would you not do the same if you suddenly discovered one who had fought by your side, a hero in the old Army of the Rhine, toiling with criminals on the oars of the galley ? " THE KING S STOCKBROKER. 7 He gazes down at the shackled creatures plying the oars to which they are chained, in the low waist of the vessel almost at his feet, and mutters: "Would you not do a little to lighten his hard lot on earth for I pre sume he is condemned for life ? " "Undoubtedly," remarks Polignac, "under the circumstances I would do the same, as far as consistent with duty." Then the lieutenant walks forward to give the comite some further orders, wondering in his sailor mind what the deuce the whole affair means, but being very confi dent of the thousand crowns that have been promised him by the general commanding the port of Marseilles. Looking at the wretches that row the King's galley, under the lashes of the boatswain and his mates, two hundred and ninety-seven of the three hundred that began the day's toil of this water fete at Marseilles, for two have died as they rowed, and one has just been released from his irons and lies upon the poop deck, the moonlight shining on his face and the young general bending over him, Polignac mutters: " Tonn.. de Dieu! a general of the army taking interest in a galley slave! It's as curious as the mermaid and the sea serpent." But if Polignac, lieutenant of La Sylphide, is aston ished, Raymond le Comte d'Arnac, general of the army of France, is not only astounded, but dazed and horri fied, as he stands on the deck of the galley that is being swept into the harbor of Marseilles, and looking over the moonlit waters towards the Isle Pomegue sees the great fen de joie twinkling in the distance, and com mences to appreciate what he is doing. These lights of the celebration set him to thinking very deeply ; he begins to realize the awful responsi bility of the task he has set himself to do. For Raymond le Comte d'Arnac, general of the army of France, has determined to steal from the galleys the wretched format upon whom he looks well knowing that all the power of the Regent and all his clique of financiers, courtiers and officers of police will be against him. But as he glances down on the face of his old comrade and sees it drawn with toil and pinched with want and suffering, he hears the pale, trembling lips of the sleep- 8 THE KINO'S STOCKBROKER. ing man murmur "TOGETHER!" This word of their friendship takes him back to the Army of the Rhine, and he sees again the laughing, light-hearted soldier of fortune, O'Brien Dillon, who saved his life the night they stormed the lone bastion of Friburg; and he remembers how they had been happy comrades during the days at Rastadt. Then he gazes back over the five years between that time and this, and recollects how this man had married the beautiful woman he had fought for by the camp fire, and that his love for her had brought him to what he now is. Raymond sees as in a dream his own attempt to rescue this enchanting creature, who had been made the bait to lure from the Regent of France the concessions for Monseigneur Law, and how he himself had fallen under her wondrous charms. With this comes to him the remembrance of O'Brien Dillon's return to Paris a general in the Austrian service and count of the Empire, to again seek the wife of his heart, not guessing that under the name of the beautiful Hilda de Sabran she was mistress of the Regent of France. How, made rich by the spoils of the Turk, and covered by the diamonds of the Ottoman Vizier, Dillon 1 ad enjoyed a second honeymoon in the arms of the siren who, though she loved him again for one short evening, was ready to give him over to his enemies the next morning, knowing that his was no nature to submit to dishonor even from the Potentate of France; that she must throw away her ambition and conceal her shame from her husband, or permit those to do their will upon him who, to keep the friendship of the Due d'Orleans, were willing to consign O'Brien Dillon to the oblivion of death, or to a life-long prison. This brings Raymond to the details of that curious night at the Caf6 St. Michel, where his Irish friend was seized by a mob of apparently affrighted spectators, after making his wonderful stroke at billiards the first masse" shot ever made in public in the world. That it was this shot that had been used to secretly convict O'Brien Dillon of sorcery, Raymond has learned from the muttered words of the creature lying before him, faltered from pale lips before the sleep of intense toil came upon the released slave of the oar. THE KING S STOCKBROKER. 9 Meditating upon this, D'Arnac concludes this convic tion had probably been obtained under some old edict of the past century, not yet wiped out from the juris prudence of the country. For in France, in 1520, fires had burned for the execu tion of witches, wizards and sorcerers in every town, in every province, and for nearly two centuries thereafter necromancers, sorcerers and diaboles had suffered death at the stake as often as the superstitious wished. A few short years before this very night such transac tions were not absolutely unusual. Even as Raymond looks at the man, he knows enough about the still mysterious powers supposed to be trans mitted from the evil one to be aware that half the galley slaves marauders, thieves and bandits as they are toiling under the lash of the boatswain, would shudder with fear at the thought that rowing beside them, suffering the same stripes, uttering the same shrieks, had been one accused of having intercourse with the devil. " Pardieu f" mutters D'Arnac, lookingatthe motion less form, "if poor O'Brien had been a wizard, he could have used the black art to have escaped, and not needed me to assist him. If there is sorcery in the matter, it belongs to la Sabran, whose beauty bewitches all who come near her enchanting charms to love her; most of them to their undoing." Then thinking of the assignation he has even now with this beautiful creature who is waiting for him in vain on the Island Pomegue, he cogitates: " Mon Dieu ! For this she will never forgive me ! " With this he sets to thinking very hard and very desperately, for he imagines that the beautiful Hilda, who has twice been balked of his wooing, will hate him not love him the more for this night's desertion and will use every means in her power to effect his downfall. "If I make a false step, I am lost! I have so few friends to turn to," he reflects. "Even Cousin Charlie, who has betrayed this man, would destroy me. In stealing a galley slave unpardoned from the bagne, I am committing a crime from which even my rank will not save me, with every power of the clique about the Regent arrayed against me to urge my condemnation. 10 THE KING S STOCKBROKER. But steal him I will," he mutters, "and steal him by cunning, as I cannot use my power, Commandant, though I am, of the Port of Marseilles." Meditating upon this, a sudden idea comes to Ray mond, but with it comes the signal from the galley to the forts at the entrance of the basin, to lower the immense iron chain that is always raised at midnight to keep vessels from entering unsignalled. The clanking of this barrier to the harbor warns him he must act quickly. Stepping to the sleeping galley slave D'Arnac attempts to awaken him, and is answered with a moan. "Arise!" he whispers, shaking the sleeping format. "Wake up! You must act!" To his assaults the pale lips give a subdued shriek : "I awake, comite 1 for the love of God, not the basti nado! I awake!" And the shivering wretch, with every faculty nerved by fear, springs up, trembling, ready to take the oar. Then, looking round in a half-dazed manner, O'Brien Dillon sees his comrade, and murmurs, "Raymond Mon Dicu! I dreamt I was a galley slave." Here the cadence of the oars comes to him, mingled with a shriek brought by the comitfs lash, and he trembles and, look ing at himself, mutters: "No not a dream your face is a dream. They will drag me back!" then shudder ing, clutches D'Arnac, moaning: "Friend of the sword, save a comrade from the cruel boatswain! " And Raymond whispers in his ear: "You are safe I am by your side. You remember? " "Yes." "You recall " "Yes! let me sleep let me sleep! I am released from the irons watch over me let me sleep! " and the man, exhausted with the fearful toil of the day, sinks upon the deck. But Raymond is at him again whispering: "Wake up!" "Let me sleep!" "Wake up for revenge!" "For REVENGE!" And suddenly a giant rises up; no more the shrinking galley slave but the man who will avenge his manhood's wrongs. And O'Brien Dillon THE KINGS STOCKBROKER. II says: "Where are they my wife and my uncle Johnny Law, the financier of France? " His voice has an eager but horrible tone. "They are not here. In order to escape, you must do as I direct. For ten minutes you must control your self!" whispers Raymond. "Are you strong enough to swim one hundred yards?" "One hundred yards? For revenge I could swim five miles!" "Then, when I walk forward to speak to the lieuten ant of the galley, utter the yell of the maniac and spring overboard. Dive deep and long, and make those stone stairs on the opposite side of the basin. You see them?" "Yes." "There I will meet you you understand?" "As well as I did at Friburg! " And the galley slave gives his hand to the general of the army, and whispers, " Together! " "Yes, always together now!" mutters Raymond, tears dimming his sight, as he thinks of what this man had once been, and what he is. Then as the galley sweeps into the basin of Marseilles, D'Arnac steps up to Lieutenant Polignac, who has gone forward along the center plank of the waist, and is talking to the comit^ and says to him: "I will sign, as you suggested, a requisition for galley slave number one of the second oar." "Yes, number 1392 of Toulon, unbranded," replies Polignac, looking over a book that he has just received from the boatswain, being a record of the formats em ployed on the vessel. "Unbranded?" chuckles the comitt. "He's a rare bird; no fieur-de-lys on him! He came to us unbranded, and I had no orders as to what letter designating his crime should be put upon him. He's a strong devil and we'll miss him ! But that matter you must settle with our captain, Monsieur le General." Then he suddenly cries : ' ' Tonnerre de Brest ! but. he's gone crazy! " And Polignac echoes: "Your galley slave is a maniac! " For at this moment, just as the vessel is dropping 12 THE KING'S STOCKBROKER. anchor, O'Brien Dillon, rising from " the poop deck, utters three or four demoniac yells, and springing over the side of the ship into the deep water of the basin, disappears from sight ; and though they all run to the railings, and Polignac orders the sailors to look out and see when the man rises, no living thing comes under their eyes in the basin of the harbor of Mar seilles. Then Polignac remarks: "Tonn.. de Dieu ! General d'Arnac, it will not be necessary for you to write a receipt for the format; would you kindly attest this affair in the log-book ? " This Raymond does in the poop cabin, and it is the following record : June i, 1719. Galley slave number 1392, of Toulon, being relieved from his irons to be placed upon shore duty at hospital for infectious diseases, suddenly went crazy, and springing overboard, was drowned, about midnight, in the harbor of Marseilles. This over, D'Arnac steps to the gangway to leave the vessel, but Polignac is at his side, and whispers: " How about the thousand crowns now?" "At my office at twelve to-morrow morning!" returns Raymond. "Oh! I understand," chuckles the sea dog. '"''Bon soir ! Monsieur le General. I hope the result of your excursion upon La Sylphide will be as pleasant to you as it has been profitable to me." "God knows! " mutters D'Arnac, as he steps off the vessel, and with slashing tread, goes straight to his quarters, for into his mind has suddenly sprung a serious problem how to clothe the format so he can pass unchallenged through the streets of the town ? " Par bleu ! my quarters as commandant of the garri son are cursed with sentries!" Raymond mutters as he walks. This he finds to be the case, for the sergeant of the guard seems unusually alert this night, and very wide awake; an activity which his superior would praise at any other time, but at this particular moment anathe matizes under his breath. Going to his own apartments D'Arnac discovers his lackeys are by no means so wakeful; every one THE KING S STOCKBROKER. 13 of them are out on various junketings about town, as, with the instinct of servants, they have divined that when their master departed, he went for an all-night cruise. Finding his flunkies absent, Raymond, after a little consideration, selects some clothes of his own that he has worn so long ago that their loss will hardly attract his valet's notice, and blessing God that the fashion for gentlemen still dictates their wearing wigs, hunts up an old peruke of his to cover the shaven head of his stolen galley slave. Carrying these under his long military overcoat, he departs again from his quarters. Passing the saluting sergeant of the guard and the sentries he soon reaches the basin of the harbor of Marseilles, and coming to a little stone stairway leading up from the splashing water, sees reclining, sleeping again, the man registered that night as " Format number 1392, drowned in the harbor of Marseilles." After one or two efforts, he succeeds in waking him, for these galley slaves were accustomed to sleep like dogs, and wake like dogs to be aroused at any hour of the day or night that the vessel might be put in motion. Shaking himself like a great water spaniel, O'Brien Dillon stands once more before his old comrade and friend. " Clothe yourself in these! They are the dress of gentlemen, dear friend," whispers the latter. "Bedad," answers O'Brien, "anything is better than the nothing I have worn." After a moment he adds: "Faith, it's about me usual method of toilet to dress myself after a bath!" These words bring sudden joy to D'Arnac the first he has had since he made his awful discovery for in them he sees a flicker of the old Irish spirit. The words that come to him a moment after give him even greater hope. " By Saint Patrick ! " says the format who is rapidly putting himself in the habiliments of civil life, "ye've given me the fine clothes of a gentleman that came from your heart, ma bcuchal /" Then he says suddenly, with a shudder: "By me soul! you've put me in black! Is it a bad omen ?" 14 THE KING'S STOCKBROKER. "Oh," answers Raymond, "I forgot . I've been in mourning for nearly a year for the Comte de Creve- coeur , my uncle, who died in Paris." With this O'Brien turns curious eyes upon his friend and whispers: " How long is it since the night I made that accursed shot at billiards ? " "Eighteen months," replies D'Arnac, after a pause of consideration. "Eighteen months ?" gasps Dillon. "By the powers of hell! it has seemed to me eighteen YEARS ! Ah ! the infernal click of the billiard balls that has been in my ears ! The slash of the oars in the rowlocks, the snap of the boatswain's lash have been the click of the billiard balls. The screams of the tortured wretches have been the billiard balls to me. Oh, my God ! But if I think of that time it will make me the cur, when I have to be the lion the lion hungry for revenge!" And his face in the moonlight is an awful one to look at. Then trying to regain his spirits he attempts a chuckle: " And it's fine looking ye are, in your general's uniform and decorations. I was a general once and a count!" and his eyes gleam bright and lustrous as he mutters: " Give me a sword, and I'll be a general and a count again." "Then be one!" and D'Arnac buckles his own weapon around his old comrade's waist, who cries and laughs over it, and pets it, and fondles its hilt, saying it is his friend, and now that he has a weapon in his hands, he feels a general once more. At this Raymond grows more easy. He sees the indomitable spirit has not all been tortured out of this man; that in time O'Brien Dillon will become again the dashing soldier of the Rhine campaign. "Come," he says, "I can't give you a general's quarters this evening." "But ye'll give me the welcome of a friend !' mutters O'Brien as he strides "beside Raymond. "I want to ask you two questions, quick. It is for your safety as well as mine," remarks D'Arnac, anxiously. "Were you convicted by regular tribunal?" " Faith, I'm afraid so. They took me in naked into the Conciergerie. I was charged within ten minutes THE KING S STOCKBROKER. 15 after I arrived there with being a sorcerei and a wizard. The judges seemed to be ready for me. Your Cousin Charlie came in as Procureur du Roy, and prof fered himself to me as my counsel, and told me not to say a word and he would fix everything. Then I heard a rigmarole about somebody that wasn't me Paul Casanova and of course I answered nothing and Cousin Charlie he answered nothing. Two minutes after I was chained and ironed, and in a van being driven out of Paris to a living hell!" Then he suddenly whispers, trembling: "God help me! Raymond! Save me! Don't let him see me ! It is the comite coming the cruel comitt '.' " And D'Arnac sees the gentleman walking at his side become a trembling format again and shrink behind him, as at a little distance they see pass before them the boatswain of the galley La Sylphide, whistling a merry strain, en route for some neighboring wine shop ; but fortunately he doesn't see them. "You are sure my cousin betrayed you?" asks Raymond the moment the man has disappeared. "As I am a living wretch, despoiled of property and name, and degraded from my manhood, I know it and now I know the reason of it. Uncle Johnny Law, the financier of France, and my wife, were sure from what I said to them on my return from Vienna that the minute I discovered that Madame la Comtesse Dillon (I'd made her that, hadn't I, my boy, by the sword?) was De Sabran, the mistress of the Regent of France, I would punish her unfaithfulness to me that is the reason they made me what I am. Your cousin, Charlie de Moncrief, heard me tell of my wonderful shot at billiards I was to make that night. It was arranged for. The mob flew at me and cried 'sorcerer!' and 'demon!' and tore every bit of clothes from me, and robbed me of the diamonds that I had on me so that I could not be identified. The judges were ready. The Procureur was on hand! So under an assumed name O'Brien Dillon, General of the Imperial Army and Count of the Empire, was condemned and smuggled away to the galleys of France the doom of felons." " My Heaven ! the ineffable villain!" mutters Ray mond. "Why, Charles de Moncrief came to me after 16 THE KING'S STOCKBROKER. he had assisted at your condemnation, and went with me to the office of the Lieutenant of Police to make inquiries about you." "And you heard nothing ? " "Nothing from the police." "Then the Lieutenant of Police is against me! Doesn't that prove what I have told you that it is the power of France that is upon me ? Raymond, my comrade, give me a little money let me fly from here on my own account else I will bring ruin upon you, my friend!" And O'Brien Dillon holds out eager hands and would take money and disappear, perhaps forever, from the light of the world ; but Raymond's grip is upon him, and his hand clutches his, and he mutters: "Together the old word, O'Brien TOGETHER as at Friburg, when you saved my life ! " With that, the escaped format embraces the general of France with such a terrible grip that D'Arnac almost feels his bones crush together. And he knows that his comrade of the Rhine, from being a strong man, has become under the fearful exercise and train ing of the galleys, a very giant in strength. "If I can get his mind as potent as his "body," Raymond thinks, " together we will win our battle even against the power of France." So, with more confidence than has come to him before in this adventure, D'Arnac conducts O'Brien Dillon past saluting sentries, into his quarters, and showing him a vacant room, and placing before him wine and provisions, hurriedly obtained from his sideboard, tells him to refresh himself, and then to lie down and sleep. " Indade and I will! God of mercy! to think that I shall lie in a bed again this night I, who have slept, it seems for ages, on the hard benck of the galley slave. I, who have my God! Raymond "and he bursts into tears that make his comrade weep also. But eventually the Irish general is comforted, and goes to sleep like a child, sighing the long sighs of exhausted manhood; once more under the roof of man once more with the comforts of man about him once more with a man's hope in the world. THE KINGS STOCKBROKER. 17 CHAPTER II. THE TAVERN OF THE TURK'S HEAD. UPON his own couch Raymond lies tossing a good deal of the night; sometimes thinking what a difference it would have been to him had not the galley slave whispered " Together! " ; perchance with an awful long ing for the beauty he now knows shall never be his, because he has determined that this woman, he once thought in his boyish way he loved, is a siren who leads men to destruction, and will destroy his life eventually, should he ever take her to his heart, as fully and perhaps as awfully as she has done that of the man who is sleeping in the adjoining room. On awakening next morning, D'Arnac finds sudden movement is necessary. A package comes to him which astounds and delights him, yet embarrasses him. It is an order to relinquish his post as Commandant of Marseilles, and to return forthwith to Paris. An official notification that he has been promoted to the rank of lieutenant general in the army of France, and has been made honorary lieutenant colonel of the Musquetaires Noirs, and commandant of a portion of the garrison of the capital, accompanies the epistle. This promotion is so unexpected D'Arnac cannot guess to whose good offices it is due. A little consid eration makes him think he owes it to his old chief of the Army of the Rhine, the Marechal de Villars. Upon it he must act at once. He does so, leaving his office hurriedly to make arrangements for departure, but taking the precaution to lock the door of O'Brien Dillon's room, to prevent intrusion by anyof his servants, most of whom are sleep- mg off the effects of their last night's festivity, and do 'iot imagine their master has yet returned to his quarters. Occupied about this, Raymond, passing the Hotel de Vilie, "sees the carriages of Monseigneur Law and his party drawn up ready to take departure from Mar seilles. The financier calls to him and says affably: "Gen- l8 THE KING'S STOCKBROKER. eral d'Arnac, permit me to congratulate you upon your promotion! " Law has had word of it by post also, and rather hints that it is owing to his good offices that the young man has received his important command, for this shrewd diplomatist imagines that it will be well to be en rapport, during the coming year, with any officer con trolling a portion of the garrison of Paris. He continues, rather eagerly : "Won't you join our party on this journey to the capital ? " " That will be impossible ! I cannot turn over my command here in a minute,'* replies D'Arnac, anxious to get the affair over, for he sees the goddess that he had worshipped until to-day, the .alluring Hilda de Sabran, is seated in the carriage immediately behind that of Mon- seigneur Law. "You must join us," cries that beauty, overhearing the last portion of this conversation, during which she has been throwing veiled, yet pathetic glances at the dashing young general. "You missed our fete last night, but we claim you for the journey." Then she waves a beckoning hand to him. Thus compelled, D'Arnac approaches her carriage, and finding her alone in it, is forced to a tete-a-tete that he would like to avoid. She whispers eagerly: " You will come with us ? " " Impossible ! " he falters. " Official duties ! " His look, which for the life of him he cannot control, gives this young lady pleasure. She is so enchanting a pict ure no man could withhold admiration. "Official duties," she says bitterly, "kept you from me yesterday ? " then whispers plaintively, lovingly : " Raymond, my darling God help me ! why did you for get me last night ? " An awful longing in her soft voice, wistful tears in her blue eyes that have grown languid, looking for him who came not to her arms. " Why ? " stammers the young man. Then a sudden Machiavelian instinct coming to him, he mutters: "You see, your ' Uncle Johnny ' was wiser than either of us ; when he sent me away last evening, he knew I could not get back to the Isle Potnegue. " "Ah, it was he ! " and the beauty snaps the pearls she calls teeth very savagely together, and favors Uncle THE KING'S STOCKBROKER. 19 Johnny's back with a look, that if he saw it, would make the financier jump. On this Raymond gazes astonished ; he had expected indignant anger from this slighted beauty, but she only gives pathetic entreaty in both voice and eyes to this man who is the first one in all her life to slight her marvelous loveliness and make her suffer the pang of jealous fear. Her rage is for others, Mon- seigneur Law, Raymond's protege", la Quinault, the comedienne of the Francais, but never D'Arnac. Just at this instant the laughing Marquise de Prie, attended by the Prince de Conti, joins them from a neighboring shop, in which she has been making some purchases for the journey, #nd giving the promoted gen tleman an elaborate courtesy, says: "Permit me to salute the colonel of the Musquetaires Noirs. That means all the Court balls ex officio. I claim the first minuet." "With the greatest of pleasure, "and Raymond bows, delighted at the opportune interruption. "You had better join us, D'Arnac, " remarks De Conti very affably, for even this prince of the blood thinks he may have use, in the near future, for a general commanding troops near Paris. " Egad! If you don't accept our offer, you will scarcely reach the capital for a year, unless you walk there. Every diligence seat is engaged for months ahead." " I shall use my own chargers, " answers Raymond, " though I am very much obliged to you for your kind invitation, Monsieur le Prince." A moment after the carriages drive away ; Hilda waving an adieu, with an entreaty in her eyes that would mean a great deal to D'Arnac, if he would accept their meaning. Then he goes about his business again, and towards evening, his arrangements having been completed, deftly getting his galley slave out of Marseilles, the two take horse for Paris. But were it not for D'Arnac's private means of conveyance they would be months reaching the capital. The rush to that city is so immense that every vehicle, every diligence, has been engaged far in advance to take the speculating crowd of financiers, from the world over, to the capital of France, which is growing 20 THE KING S STOCKBROKER. even day by day under the great schemes of Mon- seigneur Law, in its crowds, in its riches, in its potency in the commercial world, in a luxury and extravagance that had been unheard of since the days when Ancient Rome conquered the world, and it in turn destroyed her by the effeminate voluptuousness it threw upon her. In fhis gay capital, just at the corner of the Rue St. Denis and the Rue de Petit Lion, stands the hotel of Mr. Lanty Lanigan, a veteran in the French Army of the Rhine during the war of the Spanish succes sion and of the Imperial army on the banks of the Danube, opposed to the Turks, in which, following the fortunes of O'Brien Dillon, he had battled most vali antly both for love of fighting* and for love of plunder. Some two years before this, coming with his master in triumph to Paris, after the great battle of Belgrade, in which they had captured the Turkish Vizier and obtained a great ransom from him, as well as all the diamonds of himself and harem, amounting to some five hundred thousand crowns' worth of loot and plunder, Mr. Lanigan had disported himself with military ardor until the disastrous mass shot at billiards that his master had made at the Cafe St. Michel and the disappearance of O'Brien Dillon, Comte of the Empire and General in the Austrian service, from the sight of man. Thereafter Mr. Lanigan, by assiduous attentions to Monseigneur Law at his bank on the Rue Vivienne, as well as various deft hints as to certain disclosures he might make the Regent in regard to the beautiful Hilda de Sabran being the wife of his lost master, had contrived to gain from the financier enough money to purchase the hostelry of the Turk's Head. The house, three stories in height, topped by a slop ing roof with dormer windows after the manner of that time, is quite extensive in its accommodations for wayfarers; part of the lower floor having been fitted up by its enterprising proprietor into a bright looking cafe, the floor of which is covered with the cleanest sawdust. Adjoining it is a pleasant wineshop, embellished by a billiard table. If O'Brien Dillon has any unpleasant recollections of THE KING'S STOCKBROKER. 21 the famous masse" shot evolved by the inventive mechan ical genius of his Irish servant, Mr. Lanty has no such feelings with regard to it, and has made it, by means of his deft performance with a cue bearing a leather end, quite a resort of those who are devotees of the game, winning from them considerable money by his extraor dinary execution of the marvelous shot which has now become recognized as a matter of mechanics not magic. The business of the tavern, cafe, and adjoining wine shop, has increased marvelously, as the town has filled up with strangers thronging to Paris to gain fortunes on the Rue Quincampoix, by speculating in the stocks of the India Company, now the great feature of financial Europe. Within three months, Mr. Lanty Lanigan (generally known under the name of Lanty) has twice raised his charges, without losing a customer. His hostelry he has decorated with an enormous Turk's head of most savage appearance and ferocious eyes, in honor of his triumph over the Ottoman, and has placarded under this sign the following ominous notice to travelers : is NO POOR MAN'S TAVERN ! None but the rich need apply For entertainment for man or beast. It is a bright, beautiful morning towards the end of June, 1719, when Lanty, walking out of his hostelry and taking a look up and down the Rue de Petit Lion and the Rue St. Denis, mutters to himself, gazing upon the great mass of people that throng the streets even at this early hour of the day: " Bedad, they're still crowding in like women to a wake ! Divil take me, if I don't raise the charges on 'em agin !" Then a sudden grin comes over his genial devil-may- care countenance, as he says: "Be me soul! here's luck ! If it isn't "that pretty little darlint Marie coming 22 THE KING S STOCKBROKER. down the street in the handsomest pair of red stockings that ever made a man's heart beat faster ! I'm afeard her father, that old Savoyard, Chambery, don't like me as well as before he made ten millions on the Rue Quincampoix. But faix, if he made a hundred millions I'd love his duck of a daughter all the same perhaps a little more. Bedad ! I think me sword has done good work for me with the young lady. She's not used to soldiers andgintlemin,and a man of the world impresses her innocent soul." Whereupon, assuming a martial manner, and bring ing into prominence the hilt of a long Spanish rapier that he always wears at his side, Mr. Lanigan strides up to a very showy looking young woman who chances to be passing the Turk's Head Inn just at this time. "Ah, Marie, acushla!" he whispers in the easy man ner that most Irishmen have towards the fair sex. "Did ye come out walking to see me this morning ?" "Not this morning," says the girl saucily, "and I did not see you at all; the sun was in my eyes." "Faix, I know that I'm always dazzling," replies Lanty, stealing the compliment from the sun. " Pooh ! you're not dazzling tome," giggles the girl, who has rustic, unformed but coquettish manners. "What do you mean by l acushla?' Is it a Dutch compliment ?" "Faix, don't ye know that's the Irish for darlint, ye little witch ? Hav'nt I been calling you acushla with me eyes ever since they first got sight of ye ?" whispers Lanty with an enraptured ogle. Whereupon the young lady elevates a coquettish nose in the air and says: "You must not address me that way. My father wouldn't like it!" Then she adds, poutingly: " But I forgive you it it's the last chance that you'll have !" " 'The last chance I'll have ?' What what makes ye think that ?" stammers Lanty, his spirit drooping a little at this, for the young lady's charms of face and manner and fortune have enraptured the ardent Irish man's soul. "Because from now on I am going to be brought up after the manner of the noblesse. Father says he's rich enough to give me the surroundings of a lady of fashion. " THE KING'S STOCKBROKER. 23 And mademoiselle flounts her petticoats out and takes her steps in the mincing manner of great ladies, display ing to Lanty's devouring eyes her very attractive red stockings and well shod feet. "Bedad ! then I'm just the man to put you into dacint society," says Lanty. "Who could do it better than the soldier and the gintlemin ?" " I'm afraid the soldier and the gentleman will see very little of me," returns Marie, laughingly, though there is a shade of concern in her voice. "I'm to have a governess and a maid servant with me on my next promenade. Will the soldier have the courage to face a governess and a maid servant ? " "Bedad! for you I'd have the courage to face a squadron of governesses and a regiment of maid servants! Do ye think I'm going to let yer old divil of a father put ye out of my way when I am just begin ning to love ye ?" "Love me ? " gasps the girl, growing red but pleased. " Love me, Mr. Lanty ? " " Aye, and MARRY ye, " replies the Irishman. " Marie, acushla ! ye're to be the future Mrs. Lanty Lanigan. Put that down in your prayer book and think of it when ye say yer Ave Marias ivery mornin', as I hope ye do, loike a good girl. Ye can tell yer father that with me compliments. " "Indeed, I shall do nothing of the kind I dare not, "says the girl. "My father talks of betrothing me to the rich Monsieur Potteau. He's worth five millions. " " Mother of Moses! the ex-footman of the Comte de Broglie!" gasps Lanty. . "That's puttin' ye into society the same as an introduction to the divil is send ing you to heaven. Be my soul, hasn't yer father enough money ? \Vhat ye want in yer family now is a little good blood, which I am prepared to furnish to order; aye, and to shed it for ye," cries Lanty. " I'll run that footman through his flunky gizzard before he even kisses yer. Speaking of kisses, Marie, darlint, come into the back alley." Then taking the girl by the arm in a very uncere monious way, Mr. Lanty says: "Marie, answer me, as ye would yer patron saint: Which would ye sooner 24 THE KING'S STOCKBROKER. have, the dashing soldier, Mr. Lanigan, or the flunkey- bred footman of the Comte de Broglie ? " " Don't don't ask me, "gasps the girl. " Bedad! that's the way I loike to have ye talk agitated. Agitation shows emotion; emotion shows love. Marie, which would ye sooner have ? Don't dally with me! WHICH? Look me in the eye and say it! " "You," cries the girl, with a merry laugh. "Then come into the back alley and give me a kiss! " But breaking away from his restraining arms she hurries into the crowd, and in spite of Lanty's pursuit, her agile feet, in the great throng, outdistance and elude him. At last the red stockings pass out of sight and he muses: "Bedad, I think I've got her. Now, for her father! Money is what will appeal to the provincial soul of the Savoyard Chambery, more than all the good blood of the Lanigans. Musha! up goes the prices in The Turk's Head ! By Saint Patrick ! won't I beggar my boarders! " With this Shylock idea in his mind, going back to his duties as maitre