“It was,” went on Mascarin, “because I desired your advice. We have started on a serious undertaking,--an undertaking full of peril both to you and to myself.” “Pooh! I have perfect confidence in you,--whatever you do is done well, and you are not the man to fling away your trump cards.” “True; but I may lose the game, after all, and then----” The doctor merely shook a large gold locket that depended from his watch chain. This movement seemed to annoy Mascarin a great deal. “Why do you flash that trinket at me?” asked he. “We have known each other for five and twenty years,--what do you mean to imply? Do you mean that the locket contains the likeness of some one that you intend to make use of later on? I think that you might render such a step unnecessary by giving me your present advice and attention.” Hortebise threw himself back in his chair with an expression of resignation. “If you want advice,” remarked he, “why not apply to our worthy friend Catenac?--he knows something of business, as he is a lawyer.” The name of Catenac seemed to irritate Mascarin so much, that calm, and self-contained as he usually was, he pulled off his cap and dashed it on his desk. “Are you speaking seriously?” said he angrily. “Why should I not be in earnest?” Mascarin removed his glasses, as though without them he could the more easily peer into the depths of the soul of the man before him. “Because,” replied he slowly, “both you and I distrust Catenac. When did you see him last?” “More than three months ago.” “True, and I allow that he seems to be acting fairly toward his old associates; but you will admit that, in keeping away thus, his conduct is without excuse, for he has made his fortune; and though he pretends to be poor, he is certainly a man of wealth.” “Do you really think so?” “Were he here, I would force him to acknowledge that he is worth a million, at least.” “A million!” exclaimed the doctor, with sudden animation. “Yes, certainly. You and I, Hortebise, have indulged our every whim, and have spent gold like water, while our friend garnered his harvest and stored it away. But poor Catenac has no expensive tastes, nor does he care for women or the pleasures of the table. While we indulged in every pleasure, he lent out his money at usurious interest. But, stop,--how much do you spend per annum?” “That is a hard question to answer; but, say, forty thousand francs.” “More, a great deal more; but calculate what a capital sum that would amount to during the twenty years we have done business together.” The doctor was not clever at figures; he made several vain attempts to solve the problem, and at last gave it up in despair. “Forty and forty,” muttered he, tapping the tips of his fingers, “are eighty, then forty--”