"From William Smith himself; the house of Meulaert is so well known, I knew so well myself the probity of Smith, that I accepted this bill in payment of a debt he owed me." "William Smith has never existed; it is an imaginary person." "Sir, you insult me!" "His signature is as false as the others." "I tell you, sir, that William Smith does exist; but I have, without doubt, been the dupe of a horrible breach of confidence." "Poor young man!" "Explain yourself!" cried Saint Remy, whose anxiety and humiliation were increased by this ironical pity. "In a word, the actual holder of the bill is convinced that you have committed the forgery." "Sir!" "He pretends to have the proof; two days ago he came to me to beg me to send for you here, and to propose to return you this forged note, under an arrangement. So far, all was right; this is not; and I only tell you for information. He asks one hundred thousand francs. Today even, or to-morrow at noon, the forgery will be made known to the public prosecutor." "This is indignity!" "And what is more, absurdity. You are ruined. You were prosecuted for a sum that you have just paid me, from some resource I do not know of: this is what I told to this third party. He answered, 'That a certain great lady, who is very rich, would not leave you in this embarrassment.'" "Enough, sir, enough!" "Another indignity! another absurdity! we agree." "In short, sir, what do they want?" "Unworthily to take advantage of an unworthy action. I have consented to make this proposition known to you, in branding it as an honest man ought to brand it. Now it is your affair. If you are guilty, choose between the court of assize or the terms proposed. My part is altogether professional. I will have nothing more to do with so dirty a business. The third party's name is M. Petit Jean, oil merchant; he lives on the banks of the Seine, No. 10, Quai de Billy. Settle with him. You are worthy of each other, if you are a forger, as he affirms." Saint Remy had entered the notary's with an insolent voice and lofty head. Although he had committed in his life some disgraceful actions, there remained in him still a certain pride of lineage--a natural courage which had never failed him. At the commencement of this conversation, regarding the notary as an adversary quite unworthy of him, he treated him with contempt. When Jacques Ferrand spoke of forgery, the viscount felt himself crushed. He found the notary had the advantage in his turn. Except for his great self-command, he could not have concealed the great impression made upon him by this unexpected accusation, for the consequences might be most fatal to him, of which even the notary had no idea.