of six hundred thousand francs a year, payable by the banks of England, Germany, France, and Italy.
Having made these arrangements, he set out for Paris, where he arrived on the 15th of February, 1815, eight years, day for day, after the disappearance of the unfortunate François Picaud. He was then thirty-four years old. Joseph Lucher fell sick the day after he reached Paris, and, as he had no valet or attendants, he ordered himself to be taken to a hospital. He remained sick all the time the Emperor was in Elba, and during the Hundred Days; but when the second restoration seemed to have firmly established the throne of Louis XVIII., he quitted the hospital and went to the quarter Sainte-Opportune. There he learned the following facts:
In 1807, in the month of February, there had been considerable talk about the disappearance of a young shoemaker, a decent fellow, who was going to make a wonderful marriage. A practical joke played by three of his friends destroyed his good fortune, and the poor devil ran away or was carried off. No one knew what had become of him. His intended bride mourned him for two years, then, weary of her tears, married the café-keeper Loupian, who by this marriage increased his resources, and now had on the Boulevard the most splendid and best patronized café in Paris.
Joseph Lucher appeared to listen to the story with indifference. But he asked for the names of those whose joke had caused, it was thought, the misfortune of Picaud. These names had been forgotten.
One of those whom the new-comer questioned replied, however, "There is a certain Antoine Allut who said, in my hearing, that he knew those persons."
"I knew an Allut in Italy; he came from Nîmes."
"This man also comes from Nîmes. The Allut I knew lent me a hundred crowns, and told me to hand them to his cousin Antoine, as far as I remember."
"You can remit the sum to Nîmes, for he has gone back there."
Next day a post-chaise, preceded by a courier who paid thrice the usual rates, flew rather than drove along the Lyons road. From Lyons the carriage followed the Rhône by the Marseilles road, which it left at the bridge of Saint-Esprit. There an Italian abbé alighted for the first time since the journey began.
He took a hack and got out at Nîmes at the well-known Hôtel du Luxembourg; without any concealment, he asked the people of the inn what had become of Antoine Allut. The name, very common in that district, is borne by many families differing in rank, fortune, and religion. A long time was consumed in finding the individual of whom the
