CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.
THE BILLIARD-MARKER AT "L'HOTEL SOULT." In the _salon_ of a small dilapidated hotel in one of the southern suburbs of Paris sat Roger, three weeks after the event recorded in the last chapter.

He had the dull place, apparently, to himself.

The billiard-room, visible through the folding-doors, was deserted.

In the dining-room the waiter dozed undisturbed by a single guest.

The landlady in her _bureau_ yawned and hummed, and had not even a bill to make out.
She had already made out that of the young English gentleman, and a pretty one it was! A guest such as he was worth a season to the landlady of "L'Hotel Soult." Three weeks ago, half dead with cold and weariness, he had come and asked for a bed; and in that bed till yesterday he had remained, feverish, coughing, sometimes gasping for breath.