"Let the letter go; it is
not worth while to trouble yourself."
Chupin had foreseen this objection, and was prepared for it. "But
there's money in the letter," he remonstrated. And opening the
envelope, he showed the bank-note which he had taken from his own
pocket-book.
This changed the matter entirely. "That is quite a different
thing," remarked one of the waiters. "If you find money, you are,
of course, responsible for it. But just leave it here at the
desk, and the next time the viscount comes in, the cashier will
give it to him."
A cold chill crept over Chupin at the thought of losing his bank-
note in this way. "Ah! I don't fancy that idea!" he exclaimed.
"Leave it here? Never in life! Who'd get the reward? A viscount is
always generous; it is quite likely he would give me twenty francs
as a reward for my honesty. And that's why I want his address."
The argument was of a nature to touch the waiters; they thought
the young man quite right; but they did not know M. de Coralth's
address, and they saw no way of procuring it. "Unless perhaps the
porter knows," observed one of them.
The porter, on being called, remembered that he had once been sent
to M. de Coralth's house for an overcoat. "I've forgotten his
number," he declared; "but he lives in the Rue d'Anjou, near the
corner of the Rue de la Ville l'Eveque.
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