"Those are mine, sir," remarked Mr. Levison
(I knew my fellow-commercial's name from the
captain's having addressed him by it). "I
am travelling for the house of Mackintosh.
Those cases contain waterproof paletots, the
best made. Our house has used such cases for
forty years. It is sometimes inconvenient, this
accidental resemblance of luggage—leads to
mistakes. Your goods are much heavier than
my goods, as I judge? Gas improvements,
railway chairs, cutlery, or something else in
iron?"

I was silent, or I made some vague reply.

"Sir," said Levison, "I augur well of your
future; trade secrets should be kept inviolate.
Don't you think so, sir?"

The major thus appealed to, replied, "Sir, by
Jove, you're right! One cannot be too careful
in these days. Egad, sir, the world is a mass of
deceit."

"There's Calais light!" cried some one at
that moment; and there it was, straight ahead,
casting sparkles of comfort over the dark water.

I thought no more of my travelling companions.
We parted at Paris: I went my way
and they went their way. The major was going
to pay a visit at Dromont, near Lyons; thence he
would go to Marseilles en route for Alexandria.
Mr. Levison was bound for Marseilles, like
myself and the major, but not by my train—at
least he feared not—as he had much to do in
Paris.

I had transacted my business in the French
capital, and was on my way to the Palais Royal,
with M. Lefebre fils, a great friend of mine. It
was about six o'clock, and we were crossing the
Rue St. Honoré, when there passed us a tall
Jewish-looking person, in a huge white
mackintosh, whom I recognised as Mr. Levison.
He was in a hired open carriage, and his
four boxes were by his side. I bowed to him,
but he did not seem to notice me.

"Eh bien! That drôle, who is that?" said
my friend, with true Parisian superciliousness.

I replied that it was only a fellow-passenger,
who had crossed with me the night before.

In the very same street I ran up against the
major and his wife, on their way to the railway
station.

"Infernal city, this," said the major; "smells
so of onion. I should like, if it was mine, to wash
it out, house by house; 'tain't wholesome, 'pon
my soul 'tain't wholesome. Julia, my dear,
this is my pleasant travelling companion of last
night. By-the-by, just saw that commercial
traveller! Sharp business man that: no sightseeing
about him. Bourse and bank all day,—
senior partner some day."

"And how many more?" said my friend
Lefebre, when we shook hands and parted with
the jolly major. "That is a good boy—he
superabounds—he overflows—but he is one
of your epicurean lazy officers, I am sure.
Your army, it must be reformed, or India will
slip from you like a handful of sand—vous verrez,
mon cher."

Midnight came, and I was standing at the terminus,
watching the transport of my luggage,
when a cab drove up, and an Englishman leaping
out asked the driver in excellent French for
change for a five-franc piece. It was Levison;
but I saw no more of him, for the crowd just
then pushed me forward.

I took my seat with only two other persons
in the carriage—two masses of travelling cloak
and capote—two bears, for all I could see to
the contrary.

Once away from the lights of Paris, and in the
pitch dark country, I fell asleep and dreamed
of my dear little wife, and our dear little home.
Then a feeling of anxiety ran across my mind.
I dreamed that I had forgotten the words with
which to open the letter-locks. I ransacked
mythology, history, science, in vain. Then I
was in the banking parlour at No. 172 Toledo,
Naples, threatened with instant death by a file of
soldiers, if I did not reveal the words, or explain
where the boxes had been hid; for I had hidden
them for some inscrutable no reason. At that
moment an earthquake shook the city, a flood of
fire rolled past beneath the window, Vesuvius
had broken loose and was upon us. I cried in
my agony—"Gracious Heaven, reveal to me
those words!" when I awoke.

"Dromont! Dromont! Dix minutes d'arrête,
messieurs."

Half blinded with the sudden light, I stumbled
to the buffet, and asked for a cup of coffee, when
three or four noisy young English tourists came
hurrying in, surrounding a quiet imperturbable
elderly commercial traveller. It was actually
Levison again! They led him along in triumph,
and called for champagne.

"Yes! yes!" the leader said. "You must
have some, old fellow. We have won three games,
you know, and you held such cards, too. Come
along, look alive, you fellow with the nightcap
—Cliquot—gilt top, you duffer. You shall have
your revenge before we get to Lyons, old chap."

Levison chattered good humouredly about
the last game, and took the wine. In a few
minutes the young men had drunk their champagne,
and had gone out to smoke. In another
moment Levison caught my eye.

"Why, good gracious," he said, "who'd have
thought of this! Well, I am glad to see you.
Now, my dear sir, you must have some champagne
with me. Here, another bottle, monsieur,
if you please. I hope, long before we get to
Lyons, to join you, my dear sir. I am tired of
the noise of those youngsters. Besides, I object
to high stakes, on principle."

The moment the waiter brought the champagne,
Levison took the bottle.

"No," he said; "I never allow any one to
open wine for me." He turned his back from
me to remove the wire; removed it; and was
filling my glass; when up dashed a burly hearty
man to shake hands with me—so awkward in
his heartiness that he broke the champagne
bottle. Not a drop of the wine was saved.
It was the major—hot as usual, and in a
tremendous bustle.

"By Jove, sir; dooced sorry. Let me order