"A little reflection along the line of commercial usage will make my meaning plain to you," said Mr. Sparhawk. "Weir has been with Rufus Stevens' Sons for many years; he is deeply imbedded in the firm's affairs; and that is against him here. For those who have claims upon the firm should be approached by one who is a creditor himself. Or, failing that," said Mr. Sparhawk, "by one who is quite disinterested." "What, then, shall I do?" said Mademoiselle Lafargue. "To whom shall I apply?" "Do not distress yourself," said Mr. Sparhawk. "There is no need to do so. Your plan," and he nodded encouragingly, "is a very serviceable one. Indeed, to speak the truth, some such thing came to my own thoughts in the last few days. But, I had no claim upon the house, and so it was not for me to come forward. With these, however," and he rustled the papers which she had given him, "any person with the proper authority could make a beginning which might lead to a creditable ending." She looked at him, and there was a new hope in her face. "I have heard it said," and her voice had a slight quaver in it, "that you have a feeling of friendliness toward Mr. Anthony Stevens." Mr. Sparhawk bent forward a little. "There is no young man in the city," said he, "indeed, there is no man of any age anywhere, for whom I have a larger respect, or whom I would strive more to please." "I, too, have a--a great respect for him," said the French girl. "It is because of that, and because I once did him an injustice in my thoughts, that I want so to help him now. He is ill; he is unable to face the things he _would_ face so well; are you strong enough in your friendship for him to take these papers and make all the good use you can of them?" "Mademoiselle," and the little gentleman regarded her, his head to one side, and a thing like victory in his eye, "my friendship is strong enough for that, and for more than that." He talked with her earnestly for some time; then, at his bidding, she made herself ready for the street. He took his hat when she returned, and they went out together, he with the papers buttoned up in his pocket and stepping briskly along at her side. XXXIII Christopher Dent spoke to Anthony at his lodgings in Sassafras Street a few days later; the young man was hollow-faced and his eyes were hot and tired. But he listened to the little apothecary gratefully. "So," said Christopher, "from what I hear, away he went with her, and with the papers in his pocket." "Where did he take her?" asked Anthony. "Where but Crousillat's? There they had a long conversation with the old gentleman himself; and then they went to Girard's." Anthony stirred on his bed. "With what result?" he asked.