they met a beautiful girl of sixteen or seventeen, who looked with anxiety at the stranger.
"M. Morrel is in his room, is he not, Mademoiselle Julie?" said the cashier, who did not notice her expression, which yet seemed not to escape the stranger.
"Yes; I think so, at least," said the young girl, hesitatingly. "Go and see, Cocles, and if my father is there, announce this gentleman."
"It will be useless to announce me, mademoiselle," returned the Englishman. "M. Morrel does not know my name; this worthy gentleman has only to announce the confidential clerk of the house of Thomson and French, of Rome, with whom your father does business."
The young girl turned pale, and continued to descend, whilst the stranger and Cocles continued to mount the staircase.
She entered the office where Emmanuel was, whilst Cocles, by the aid of a key he possessed, opened a door in the corner of a landing-place on the second staircase, conducted the stranger into an antechamber, opened a second door, which he closed behind him, and after having left the clerk of the house of Thomson and French alone, returned and signed to him that he could enter.
The Englishman entered, and found Morrel seated at a table, turning over the formidable columns of his ledger, which contained the list of his liabilities. At the sight of the stranger, Morrel closed the ledger, rose, and offered a seat to the stranger; and when he had seen him seated, resumed his own chair. Fourteen years had changed the worthy merchant, who, in his thirty-sixth year at the opening of this history, was now in his fiftieth; his hair had turned white, time and sorrow had plowed deep furrows on his brow, and his look, once so firm and penetrating, was now irresolute and wandering, as if he feared being forced to fix his attention on an idea or a man.
The Englishman looked at him with an air of curiosity, evidently mingled with interest. "Monsieur," said Morrel, whose uneasiness was increased by this examination, "you wish to speak to me?"
"Yes, monsieur; you are aware from whom I come?"
"The house of Thomson and French; at least, so my cashier tells me."
"He has told you rightly. The house of Thomson and French had three hundred thousand or four hundred thousand francs ($60,000 to $80,000) to pay this month in France; and, knowing your strict punctuality, have collected all the bills bearing your signature, and charged me as they became due to present them, and to employ the money otherwise."
Morrel sighed deeply, and passed his hand over his forehead, which was covered with perspiration.
