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 watch, to which was attached a gold seal, and transferred them to his own pocket. Next, he bade the unfortunate man dismount, and grasped the bridle of the surgeon's horse.

"You can walk home. Good-night."

And away rode the robber, humming an air from the ballet called "Les Eléments," while poor Isez stood on the path, deprived of his money, his watch and seal, and his trusty steed. What could he do in the middle of a dark night, and a league from the outskirts of Paris? There was nothing for it but to go on foot, and, very sadly and wearily, he began to walk. He was too much distressed to be able to think clearly, and he hardly noticed how he was going. But soon he emerged from the little wood, and found himself on an open road.

A short distance brought him to a house—a good, though not grand house—with an iron gate in the middle of its front.

"I will ask whose house it is," said the surgeon, "and beg permission to rest awhile and recruit myself."

When he knocked at the gate, an old man-servant responded to the summons.

"My good friend," groaned Isez, "I have been robbed by a highwayman. Will your master allow me to come in and rest awhile?"

"We cannot admit strangers," answered the man; "it is late."

Isez groaned again. "What is the name of your master, my friend?"

"He is M. le Colonel Hénon-Durant."

"Ah, is it so! Then he knows me well. We were good friends long ago. Tell him that Jean François Isez craves shelter for the night."

The janitor retired, and presently appeared the Colonel, a brave and good man, for whom Isez had the highest respect and the sincerest affection. At once the surgeon was led in, and brought to a pleasant room, where supper was laid.

"I give you welcome," said the Colonel, courteously; "pray be seated, and partake of supper. We will wait no longer for my son, who is late this evening."

Isez thanked his host, but declined to eat, only accepting a glass of claret. He told his adventure, and the unfortunate loss of his money and purse.

"My purse and my house are at your disposal, my good friend," said Hénon-Durant; "remain here this night, and to-morrow accept such a sum as may serve your necessities. You can repay it at your convenience."

Isez thanked the Colonel with gratitude; and had begun to inquire as to the family of his friend, when a young man entered whom he at once recognised as the highwayman who had robbed him.

"My son, Eugène," said Colonel Hénon-Durant, presenting the youth to Isez.

The latter was too much astonished to utter a word, except to plead fatigue and to ask to be shown to his room. The Colonel attended him to the door of a bedchamber, and there left him.

Alone, he felt utterly bewildered. Was he in the house of a cut-throat? Was the