At four o’clock that afternoon several people were gathered together at Berthier’s office; Fraisier, arch-concocter of the whole scheme, Tabareau, appearing on behalf of Schmucke, and Schmucke himself. Gaudissart had come with him. Fraisier had been careful to spread out the money on Berthier’s desk, and so dazzled was Schmucke by the sight of the six thousand-franc bank-notes for which he had asked, and six hundred francs for the first quarter’s allowance, that he paid no heed whatsoever to the reading of the document. Poor man, he was scarcely in full possession of his faculties, shaken as they had already been by so many shocks. Gaudissart had snatched him up on his return from the cemetery, where he had been talking with Pons, promising to join him soon--very soon. So Schmucke did not listen to the preamble in which it was set forth that Maitre Tabareau, bailiff, was acting as his proxy, and that the Presidente, in the interests of her daughter, was taking legal proceedings against him. Altogether, in that preamble the German played a sorry part, but he put his name to the document, and thereby admitted the truth of Fraisier’s abominable allegations; and so joyous was he over receiving the money for the Topinards, so glad to bestow wealth according to his little ideas upon the one creature who loved Pons, that he heard not a word of lawsuit nor compromise. But in the middle of the reading a clerk came into the private office to speak to his employer. “There is a man here, sir, who wishes to speak to M. Schmucke,” said he. The notary looked at Fraisier, and, taking his cue from him, shrugged his shoulders. “Never disturb us when we are signing documents. Just ask his name--is it a man or a gentleman? Is he a creditor?” The clerk went and returned. “He insists that he must speak to M. Schmucke.” “His name?” “His name is Topinard, he says.” “I will go out to him. Sign without disturbing yourself,” said Gaudissart, addressing Schmucke. “Make an end of it; I will find out what he wants with us.” Gaudissart understood Fraisier; both scented danger. “Why are you here?” Gaudissart began. “So you have no mind to be cashier at the theatre? Discretion is a cashier’s first recommendation.” “Sir--” “Just mind your own business; you will never be anything if you meddle in other people’s affairs.” “Sir, I cannot eat bread if every mouthful of it is to stick in my throat.... Monsieur Schmucke!--M. Schmucke!” he shouted aloud. Schmucke came out at the sound of Topinard’s voice. He had just signed. He held the money in his hand. “Thees ees for die liddle German maiden und for you,” he said.