Such was the young marquis’s anxiety, that despite his repugnance for Chupin the spy, he resolved to seek that archtraitor’s assistance, with the view of discovering what had become of the fugitives. It was no longer easy, however, to secure the old rascal’s services, for since he had received the price of Lacheneur’s blood--these twenty thousand francs which had so fascinated him--he had deserted the Duke of Sairmeuse’s house, and taken up his quarters in a small inn at the outskirts of the town; where he spent his days alone in a large room on the second floor. At night-time he barricaded the door, and drank, drank, drank; and till daybreak he might be heard cursing and singing, or struggling against imaginary enemies. Still he dared not disobey the summons which a soldier brought him to hasten to the Hotel de Sairmeuse at once. “I wish to discover what has become of the Baron d’Escorval,” said Martial when the old spy arrived. Chupin trembled, and a fleeting colour dyed his cheeks. “The Montaignac police are at your disposal,” he answered sulkily. “They, perhaps, can satisfy your curiosity, Monsieur le Marquis, but I don’t belong to the police.” Was he in earnest, or was he merely simulating a refusal with the view of obtaining a high price for his services? Martial inclined to the latter opinion. “You shall have no reason to complain of my generosity,” said he. “I will pay you well.” That word “pay” would have made Chupin’s eyes gleam with delight a week before, but on hearing it now he at once flew into a furious passion. “So it was to tempt me again that you summoned me here!” he exclaimed. “You would do much better to leave me quietly at my inn.” “What do you mean, you fool?” But Chupin did not even hear the interruption. “People told me,” quoth he, with increasing fury, “that, by betraying Lacheneur, I should be doing my duty and serving the king. I betrayed him, and now I am treated as if I had committed the worst of crimes. Formerly, when I lived by stealing and poaching, folks despised me, perhaps; but they didn’t shun me as they did the pestilence. They called me rascal, robber, and the like; but they would drink with me all the same. To-day, I’ve twenty thousand francs in my pocket, and yet I’m treated as if I were a venomous beast. If I approach any one he draws back, and if I enter a room, those who are there hasten out of it.” At the recollection of the insults heaped upon him since Lacheneur’s capture, the old rascal’s rage reached a climax. “Was what I did so abominable?” he pursued. “Then why did your father propose it? The shame should fall on him. He shouldn’t have tempted a poor man with wealth like that. If, on the contrary, I did my duty, let them make laws to protect me.”