it seems cruel for an own father to inherit from his own son, it is quite a different thing when it is a stranger who receives the fortune. This is all, my dear sir, plainly and frankly, and I will not do you the injury to suppose that you do not see the advantages of what I have said to you without need of my insisting further. If I have not explained clearly—”
“But nothing is more clear.”
“—it is the fault of this pain that paralyzes me.”
And he groaned while holding his jaw.
“You have a troublesome tooth?” Saniel said, with the tone of a physician who questions a patient.
“All my teeth trouble me. To tell the truth, they are all going to pieces.”
“Have you consulted a doctor?”
“Neither a doctor nor a dentist. I have faith in medicine, of course; but when I consult doctors, which seldom happens, I notice that they think much more of their own affairs than of what I am saying, and that keeps me away from them. But, my dear sir, when a client consults me, I put myself in his place.”
While he spoke, Saniel examined him, which he had not done until this moment, and he saw the characteristic signs of rapid consumption. His clothes hung on him as if made for a man twice his size, and his face was red and shining, as if he were covered with a coating of cherry jelly.
“Will you show me your teeth?” he asked. “It may be possible to relieve your sufferings.”
“Do you think so?”
The examination did not last long.
“Your mouth is often dry, is it not?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“You are often thirsty?”
“Always.”
“Do you sleep well?”
“No.”
“Your sight troubles you?”
“Yes.”
“Have you a good appetite?”
“Yes, I eat heartily; and the more I eat the thinner I become. I am turning into a skeleton.”
“I see that you have scars from boils on the back of your neck.”
“They made me suffer enough, the rascals; but they are gone as they came. Hang it, one is no longer young at seventy-two years; one has small vexations. They are small vexations, are they not?”
“Certainly. With some precautions and a diet that I shall prescribe, if you wish, you will soon be better. I will give you a prescription that will relieve your toothache.”
“We will talk of this again, because we shall have occasion to meet if, as I presume, you appreciate the advantages of the proposition that I have made you.”
“I must have time to reflect.”
“Nothing is more reasonable. There is no hurry.”
“But I am in a hurry because, if I do not pay Jardine, I shall find myself in the street, which would not be a position to offer to a wife.”
“In the street? Oh, things will not come to such a pass as that! What are the prosecutions?”
“They will soon begin; Jardine has already threatened me.”
“They are going to begin? Then they have not begun. If he does, as we presume he will, proceed by a replevin, we shall have sufficient time before the judgment. Do you owe anything to your landlord?”
“The lease expired on the fifteenth.”
“Do not pay it.”
“That is easy; it is the only thing that is easy for me to do.”
“It is an obstacle in the way of your Jardine, and may stop him a moment. We can manage this way more easily. The important thing is to warn me as soon as the fire begins. ‘Au revoir’, my dear Sir.”
CHAPTER V. A CHARMING VISITOR
Although Saniel had had no experience in business, he was not simple enough not to know that in refusing him this loan Caffie meant to make use of him.
“It is very simple,” he said to himself, as he went downstairs. “He undertakes to manage my affairs, and in such a way that some day I shall have to save myself by marrying that charming girl. What a scoundrel!”
However, the situation was such that he was glad to avail himself of the assistance of this scoundrel. At least, some time was gained, and when Jardine found that he was not disposed to let himself be slaughtered, he might accept a reasonable arrangement. But he must manage so that Caffie would not prevent this arrangement.
Unfortunately, he felt himself hardly capable of such manoeuvring, having been always straightforward, his eyes fixed on the end he wished to attain, and thinking only of the work through which he would attain it. And now he must act the part of a diplomat, submitting to craftiness and rogueries that were not at all in accord with his open nature. He had begun by not telling Caffie, instantly, what he thought of his propositions; but it is more difficult to act than to control one’s self, to speak than to be silent.
What would he say, what would he do, when the time for action came?
He reached his house without having decided anything, and as he passed before the concierge’s lodge absorbed in thought, he heard some one call him.
“Doctor, come in a moment, I beg of you.”
He thought some one wished to consult him, some countryman who had waited for his return; and, although he did not feel like listening patiently to idle complainings, he turned back and entered the lodge.
“Some one brought this,” the concierge said, handing him a paper that was stamped and covered with a running handwriting. “This” was the beginning of the fire of which Caffie had spoken. Without reading it, Saniel put it in his pocket and turned to go; but the concierge detained him.
“I would like to say two words to ‘monchieur le docteur’ about this paper.”
“Have you read it?”
“No, but I talked with the officer who gave it to me, and he told me what it meant. It is unfortunate, doctor.”
To be pitied by his concierge! This was too much.
“It is not as he told you,” he replied, haughtily.
“So much the better. I am glad for you and for me. You can pay my little bill.”
“Give
