“Go on,” said Catenac, forcing a smile, “I am listening.” Mascarin made a short pause. “What we want of you,” answered he, “will not compromise you in the slightest degree. I wish you to draw up a document, the particulars of which I will give you presently, and you will outwardly have no connection with the matter.” “Very good.” “But there is more yet. The Duke of Champdoce has placed a difficult task in your hands. You are engaged in a secret on his behalf.” “You know that also?” “I know everything that may be made subservient to our ends. I also know that instead of coming direct to me you went to the very man that we have every reason to dread, that fellow Perpignan, who is nearly as sharp as we are.” “Go on,” returned Catenac impatiently. “What do you expect from me on this point?” “Not much; you must only come to me first, and report any discovery you may have made, and never give any information to the Duke without first consulting us.” “I agree.” The contending parties seemed to have arrived at an amicable termination, and Dr. Hortebise smiled complacently. “Now,” said he, “shall we not confess, after all, that there was no use in making such a fuss?” “I allow that I was in the wrong,” answered Catenac meekly; and, extending his hands to his two associates with an oily smile, he said: “Let us forget and forgive.” Was he to be trusted? Mascarin and the doctor exchanged glances of suspicion. A moment afterward a knock came to the door, and Paul entered, making a timid bow to his two patrons. “My dear boy,” said Mascarin, “let me present you to one of my oldest and best friends.” Then, turning to Catenac, he added: “I wish to ask you to help and assist my young friend here. Paul Violaine is a good fellow, who has neither father nor mother, and whom we are trying to help on in his journey through life.” The lawyer started as he caught the strange, meaning smile which accompanied these words. “Great heavens!” said he, “why did you not speak sooner?” Catenac at once divined Mascarin’s project, and understood the allusion to the Duke de Champdoce. CHAPTER XVII. SOME SCRAPS OF PAPER. The Marquis de Croisenois was never punctual. He had received a note asking him to call on Mascarin at eleven o’clock, and twelve had struck some time before he made his appearance. Faultlessly gloved, his glass firmly fixed in his eye, and a light walking cane in his hand, and with that air of half-veiled insolence that is sometimes affected by certain persons who wish the world to believe that they are of great importance, the Marquis de Croisenois entered the room.