And from the very next number he commences his campaign. He is moderate at first, and leaves a door open for his retreat. He puts forth doubts only. He does not know much about it. "It may be an excellent thing; it may be a wretched one: the safest is to wait and see."

That's the first hint. If it remains without result, he takes up his pen again, and makes his doubts more pointed.

He knows how to steer clear of libel suits, how to handle figures so as to demonstrate, according to the requirements of the case, that two and two make three, or make five. It is seldom, that, before the third article, the company does not surrender at discretion.

All Paris knows him; and he has many friends. When M. de Tregars and Maxence arrived, they found the office full of people -speculators, brokers, go-betweens-come there to discuss the fluctuations of the day and the probabilities of the evening market.

"M. Saint Pavin is engaged," one of the clerks told them.

Indeed, his coa.r.s.e voice could be distinctly heard behind the screen. Soon he appeared, showing out an old gentleman, who seemed utterly confused at the scene, and to whom he was screaming, "No, sir, no! 'The Financial Pilot' does not take that sort of business; and I find you very bold to come and propose to me a twopenny rascality." But, noticing Maxence, "M. Favoral!" he said. "By Jove! it is your good star that has brought you here. Come into the private office, my dear sir: come, we'll have some fun now."

Many of the people who were in the office had a word to say to M. Saint Pavin, some advice to ask him, an order to transmit, or some news to communicate. They had all stepped forward, and were holding out their hands with a friendly smile. He set them aside with his usual rudeness.

"By and by. I am busy now: leave me alone."

And pushing Maxence towards the office-door, which he had just opened, "Come in, come in!" he said in a tone of extraordinary impatience.

But M. de Tregars was coming in too; and, as he did not know him, "What do you want, you?" he asked roughly.

"The gentleman is my best friend," said Maxence, turning to him; "and I have no secret from him."

"Let him walk in, then; but, by Heaven, let us hurry!"

Once very sumptuous, the private office of the editor of "The Financial Pilot" had fallen into a state of sordid dilapidation. If the janitor had received orders never to use a broom or a duster there, he obeyed them strictly. Disorder and dirt reigned supreme. Papers and ma.n.u.scripts lay in all directions; and on the broad sofas the mud from the boots of all those who had lounged upon them had been drying for months. On the mantel-piece, in the midst of some half-dozen dirty gla.s.ses, stood a bottle of Madeira, half empty. Finally, before the fireplace, on the carpet, and along the furniture, cigar and cigarette stumps were heaped in profusion.

As soon as he had bolted the door, coming straight to Maxence, "What has become of your father?" inquired M. Saint Pavin rudely.

Maxence started. That was the last question he expected to hear.

"I do not know," he replied.

The manager of "The Pilot" shrugged his shoulders. "That you should say so to the commissary of police, to the judges, and to all Favoral's enemies, I understand: it is your duty. That they should believe you, I understand too; for, after all, what do they care? But to me, a friend, though you may not think so, and who has reasons not to be credulous--"

"I swear to you that we have no idea where he has taken refuge."

Maxence said this with such an accent of sincerity, that doubt was no longer possible. M. Saint Pavin's features expressed the utmost surprise.

"What!" he exclaimed, "your father has gone without securing the means of hearing from his family?"

"Yes."

"Without saying a word of his intentions to your mother, or your sister, or yourself?"

"Without one word."

"Without leaving any money, perhaps?"

"We found only an insignificant sum after he left." The editor of "The Pilot" made a gesture of ironical admiration. "Well, the thing is complete," he said; "and Vincent is a smarter fellow than I gave him credit for; or else he must have cared more for those infernal women of his than any one supposed."

M. de Tregars, who had remained hitherto silent, now stepped forward.

"What women?" he asked.

"How do I know?" he replied roughly. "How could any one ever find out any thing about a man who was more hermetically shut up in his coat than a Jesuit in his gown?"

"M. Costeclar-"

"That's another nice bird! Still he may possibly have discovered something of Vincent's life; for he led him a pretty dance. Wasn't he about to marry Mlle. Favoral once?"

"Yes, in spite of herself even."

"Then you are right: he had discovered something. But, if you rely on him to tell you anything whatever, you are reckoning without your host."

"Who knows?" murmured M. de Tregars.

But M. Saint Pavin heard him not. Prey to a violent agitation, he was pacing up and down the room.

"Ah, those men of cold appearance," he growled, "those men with discreet countenance, those close-shaving calculators, those moralists! What fools they do make of themselves when once started! Who can imagine to what insane extremities this one may have been driven under the spur of some mad pa.s.sion!"

And stamping violently his foot upon the carpet, from which arose clouds of dust, "And yet," he swore, "I must find him. And, by thunder! wherever he may be hid, I shall find him."

M. de Tregars was watching M. Saint Pavin with a scrutinizing eye.

"You have a great interest in finding him, then?" he said.

The other stopped short.

"I have the interest," he replied, "of a man who thought himself shrewd, and who has been taken in like a child,-of a man to whom they had promised wonders, and who finds his situation imperilled, -of a man who is tired of working for a band of brigands who heap millions upon millions, and to whom, for all reward, they offer the police-court and a retreat in the State Prison for his old age, -in a word, the interests of a man who will and shall have revenge, by all that is holy!"

"On whom?"

"On the Baron de Thaller, sir! How, in the world, has he been able to compel Favoral to a.s.sume the responsibility of all, and to disappear? What enormous sum has he given to him?"

"Sir," interrupted Maxence, "my father went off without a sou."

M. Saint Pavin burst out in a loud laugh.

"And the twelve millions?" he asked. "What has become of them? Do you suppose they have been distributed in deeds of charity?"

And without waiting for any further objections, "And yet," he went on, "it is not with money alone that a man can be induced to disgrace himself, to confess himself a thief and a forger, to brave the galleys, to give up everything,-country, family, friends. Evidently the Baron de Thaller must have had other means of action, some hold on Favoral-"

M. de Tregars interrupted him.

"You speak," he said, "as if you were absolutely certain of M. de Thaller's complicity."

"Of course."

"Why don't you inform on him, then?"

The editor of "The Pilot" started back. "What!" he exclaimed, "draw the fingers of the law into my own business! You don't think of it! Besides, what good would that do me? I have no proofs of my allegations. Do you suppose that Thaller has not taken his precautions, and tied my hands? No, no! without Favoral there is nothing to be done."

"Do you suppose, then, that you could induce him to surrender himself?"

"No, but to furnish me the proofs I need, to send Thaller where they have already sent that poor Jottras."

And, becoming more and more excited, "But it is not in a month that I should want those proofs," he went on, "nor even in two weeks, but to-morrow, but at this very moment. Before the end of the week, Thaller will have wound up the operation, realized, Heaven knows how many millions, and put every thing in such nice order, that justice, who in financial matters is not of the first capacity, will discover nothing wrong. If he can do that, he is safe, he is beyond reach, and will be dubbed a first-cla.s.s financier. Then to what may he not aspire! Already he talks of having himself elected deputy; and he says everywhere that he has found, to marry his daughter, a gentleman who bears one of the oldest names in France,-the Marquis de Tregars."

"Why, this is the Marquis de Tregars!" exclaimed Maxence, pointing to Marius.

For the first time, M. Saint Pavin took the trouble to examine his visitor; and he, who knew life too well not to be a judge of men, he seemed surprised.

"Please excuse me, sir," he uttered with a politeness very different from his usual manner, "and permit me to ask you if you know the reasons why M. de Thaller is so prodigiously anxious to have you for a son-in-law."

"I think," replied M. de Tregars coldly, "that M. de Thaller would not be sorry to deprive me of the right to seek the causes of my father's ruin."

But he was interrupted by a great noise of voices in the adjoining room; and almost at once there was a loud knock at the door, and a voice called, "In the name of the law!"

The editor of "The Pilot" had become whiter than his shirt.

"That's what I was afraid of," he said. "Thaller has got ahead of me; and perhaps I may be lost."

Meantime he did not lose his wits. Quick as thought he took out of a drawer a package of letters, threw them into the fireplace, and set fire to them, saying, in a voice made hoa.r.s.e by emotion and anger, "No one shall come in until they are burnt."

But it required an incredibly long time to make them catch fire; and M. Saint Pavin, kneeling before the hearth, was stirring them up, and scattering them, to make them burn faster.

"And now," said M. de Tregars, "will you hesitate to deliver up the Baron de Thaller into the hands of justice?"

He turned around with flashing eyes.

"Now," he replied, "if I wish to save myself, I must save him too. Don't you understand that he holds me?"

And, seeing that the last sheets of his correspondence were consumed, "You may open now," he said to Maxence.

Maxence obeyed; and a commissary of police, wearing his scarf of office, rushed into the room; whilst his men, not without difficulty, kept back the crowd in the outer office.

The commissary, who was an old hand, and had perhaps been on a hundred expeditions of this kind, had surveyed the scene at a glance. Noticing in the fireplace the carbonized debris, upon which still fluttered an expiring flame, "That's the reason, then," he said, "why you were so long opening the door?"

A sarcastic smile appeared upon the lips of the editor of "The Pilot."

"Private matters," he replied; "women's letters."

"This will be moral evidence against you, sir."

"I prefer it to material evidence."

Without condescending to notice the impertinence, the commissary was casting a suspicious glance on Maxence and M. de Tregars.

"Who are these gentlemen who were closeted with you?" he asked.

"Visitors, sir. This is M. Favoral."

"The son of the cashier of the Mutual Credit?"

"Exactly; and this gentleman is the Marquis de Tregars."

"You should have opened the door when you heard a knocking in the name of the law," grumbled the commissary.

But he did not insist. Taking a paper from his pocket, he opened it, and, handing it to M. Saint Pavin, "I have orders to arrest you," he said. "Here is the warrant."

With a careless gesture, the other pushed it back. "What's the use of reading?" he said. "When I heard of the arrest of that poor Jottras, I guessed at once what was in store for me. It is about the Mutual Credit swindle, I imagine."

"Exactly."

"I have no more to do with it than yourself, sir; and I shall have very little trouble in proving it. But that is not your business. And you are going, I suppose, to put the seals on my papers?"

"Except on those that you have burnt."

M. Saint Pavin burst out laughing. He had recovered his coolness and his impudence, and seemed as much at ease as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Shall I be allowed to speak to my clerks," he asked, "and to give them my instructions?"

"Yes," replied the commissary, "but in my presence."

The clerks, being called, appeared, consternation depicted upon their countenances, but joy sparkling in their eyes. In reality they were delighted at the misfortune which befell their employer.

"You see what happens to me, my boys," he said. "But don't be uneasy. In less than forty-eight hours, the error of which I am the victim will be recognized, and I shall be liberated on bail. At any rate, I can rely upon you, can't I?"

They all swore that they would be more attentive and more zealous than ever.

And then addressing himself to his cashier, who was his confidential and right-hand man, "As to you, Bernard," he said, "you will run to M. de Thaller's, and advise him of what's going on. Let him have funds ready; for all our depositors will want to draw out their money at once. You will then call at the printing-office: have my article on the Mutual Credit kept out, and insert in its place some financial news cut out from other papers. Above all, don't mention my arrest, unless M. de Thaller should demand it. Go ahead, and let 'The Pilot' appear as usual: that's important."

He had, whilst speaking, lighted a cigar. The honest man, victim of human iniquity, has not a firmer and more tranquil countenance.

"Justice does not know," he said to the commissary, who was fumbling in all the drawers of the desk, "what irreparable damage she may cause by arresting so hastily a man who has charge of immense interests like me. It is the fortune of ten or twelve small capitalists that is put in jeopardy."

Already the witnesses of the arrest had retired, one by one, to go and scatter the news along the Boulevard, and also to see what could be made out of it; for, at the bourse, news is money.

M. de Tregars and Maxence left also. As they pa.s.sed the door, "Don't you say any thing about what I told you," M. Saint Pavin recommended to them.

M. de Tregars made no answer. He had the contracted features and tightly-drawn lips of a man who is maturing a grave determination, which, once taken, will be irrevocable.

Once in the street, and when Maxence had opened the carriage-door, "We are going to separate here," he told him in that brief tone of voice which reveals a settled plan. "I know enough now to venture to call at M. de Thaller's. There only shall I be able to see how to strike the decisive blow. Return to the Rue St. Gilles, and relieve your mother's and sister's anxiety. You shall see me during the evening, I promise you."

And, without waiting for an answer, he jumped into the cab, which started off.

But it was not to the Rue St. Gilles that Maxence went. He was anxious, first, to see Mlle. Lucienne, to tell her the events of that day, the busiest of his existence; to tell her his discoveries, his surprises, his anxieties, and his hopes.

To his great surprise, he failed to find her at the Hotel des Folies. She had gone riding at three o'clock, M. Fortin told him, and had not yet returned; but she could not be much longer, as it was already getting dark. Maxence went out again then, to see if he could not meet her. He had walked a little way along the Boulevard, when, at some distance off, on the Place du Chateau d'Eau, he thought he noticed an unusual bustle. Almost immediately he heard shouts of terror. Frightened people were running in all directions; and right before him a carriage, going at full gallop, pa.s.sed like a flash.