To the left of the opening stood a book-case, its shelves loaded with books of a kind rather suited to a cultivated, thoughtful man than to an idle dandy.
Beside the window, half-hidden, and peering through the side of the curtain into the street, stood M.Charolais.But it was hardly the M.
Charolais who had paid M.Gournay-Martin that visit at the Chateau de Charmerace, and departed so firmly in the millionaire's favourite motor-car.

This was a paler M.Charolais; he lacked altogether the rich, ruddy complexion of the millionaire's visitor.

His nose, too, was thinner, and showed none of the ripe acquaintance with the vintages of the world which had been so plainly displayed on it during its owner's visit to the country.

Again, hair and eyebrows were no longer black, but fair; and his hair was no longer curly and luxuriant, but thin and lank.

His moustache had vanished, and along with it the dress of a well-to-do provincial man of business.