Mosgranem, on terms not half so handsome, by Jove! However, I'm not haggling. I need your a.s.sistance. Is it a bargain? A hundred thousand francs?"

Dr. Geradec bolted the door, came back, sat down at his desk and said, simply:

"We'll talk about it."

"I repeat the question," said Simeon, coming closer. "Are we agreed at a hundred thousand?"

"We are agreed," said the doctor, "unless any complications appear later."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that the figure of a hundred thousand francs forms a suitable basis for discussion, that's all."

Simeon hesitated a second. The man struck him as rather greedy. However, he sat down once more; and the doctor at once resumed the conversation:

"Your real name, please."

"You mustn't ask me that. I tell you, there are reasons . . ."

"Then it will be two hundred thousand francs."

"Eh?" said Simeon, with a start. "I say, that's a bit steep! I never heard of such a price."

"You're not obliged to accept," replied Geradec, calmly. "We are discussing a bargain. You are free to do as you please."

"But, look here, once you agree to fix me up a false pa.s.sport, what can it matter to you whether you know my name or not?"

"It matters a great deal. I run an infinitely greater risk in a.s.sisting the escape--for that's the only word--of a spy than I do in a.s.sisting the escape of a respectable man."

"I'm not a spy."

"How do I know? Look here, you come to me to propose a shady transaction. You conceal your name and your ident.i.ty; and you're in such a hurry to disappear from sight that you're prepared to pay me a hundred thousand francs to help you. And, in the face of that, you lay claim to being a respectable man! Come, come! It's absurd! A respectable man does not behave like a burglar or a murderer."

Old Simeon did not wince. He slowly wiped his forehead with his handkerchief. He was evidently thinking that Geradec was a hardy antagonist and that he would perhaps have done better not to go to him.

But, after all, the contract was a conditional one. There would always be time enough to break it off.

"I say, I say!" he said, with an attempt at a laugh. "You are using big words!"

"They're only words," said the doctor. "I am stating no hypothesis. I am content to sum up the position and to justify my demands."

"You're quite right."

"Then we're agreed?"

"Yes. Perhaps, however--and this is the last observation I propose to make--you might let me off more cheaply, considering that I'm a friend of Mme. Mosgranem's."

"What do you suggest by that?" asked the doctor.

"Mme. Mosgranem herself told me that you charged her nothing."

"That's true, I charged her nothing," replied the doctor, with a fatuous smile, "but perhaps she presented me with a good deal. Mme. Mosgranem was one of those attractive women whose favors command their own price."

There was a silence. Old Simeon seemed to feel more and more uncomfortable in his interlocutor's presence. At last the doctor sighed:

"Poor Mme. Mosgranem!"

"What makes you speak like that?" asked Simeon.

"What! Haven't you heard?"

"I have had no letters from her since she left."

"I see. I had one last night; and I was greatly surprised to learn that she was back in France."

"In France! Mme. Mosgranem!"

"Yes. And she even gave me an appointment for this morning, a very strange appointment."

"Where?" asked Simeon, with visible concern.

"You'll never guess. On a barge, yes, called the _Nonchalante_, moored at the Quai de Pa.s.sy, alongside Berthou's Wharf."

"Is it possible?" said Simeon.

"It's as I tell you. And do you know how the letter was signed? It was signed Gregoire."

"Gregoire? A man's name?" muttered the old man, almost with a groan.

"Yes, a man's name. Look, I have the letter on me. She tells me that she is leading a very dangerous life, that she distrusts the man with whom her fortunes are bound up and that she would like to ask my advice."

"Then . . . then you went?"

"Yes, I was there this morning, while you were ringing up here.

Unfortunately . . ."

"Well?"

"I arrived too late. Gregoire, or rather Mme. Mosgranem, was dead. She had been strangled."

"So you know nothing more than that?" asked Simeon, who seemed unable to get his words out.

"Nothing more about what?"

"About the man whom she mentioned."

"Yes, I do, for she told me his name in the letter. He's a Greek, who calls himself Simeon Diodokis. She even gave me a description of him. I haven't read it very carefully."

He unfolded the letter and ran his eyes down the second page, mumbling: