“Can we talk here without risk of being overheard?” said the Spaniard, now metamorphosed into a red-haired Englishman with blue spectacles, as clean and prim as a Puritan going to meeting. “Why, monsieur?” said Cerizet. “Who are you?” “Mr. William Barker, a creditor of M. d’Estourny’s; and I can prove to you the necessity for keeping your doors closed if you wish it. We know, monsieur, all about your connections with the Petit-Clauds, the Cointets, and the Sechards of Angouleme----” On hearing these words, Cerizet rushed to the door and shut it, flew to another leading into a bedroom and bolted it; then he said to the stranger: “Speak lower, monsieur,” and he studied the sham Englishman as he asked him, “What do you want with me?” “Dear me,” said William Barker, “every one for himself in this world. You had the money of that rascal d’Estourny.--Be quite easy, I have not come to ask for it; but that scoundrel, who deserves hanging, between you and me, gave me these bills, saying that there might be some chance of recovering the money; and as I do not choose to prosecute in my own name, he told me you would not refuse to back them.” Cerizet looked at the bills. “But he is no longer at Frankfort,” said he. “I know it,” replied Barker, “but he may still have been there at the date of those bills----” “I will not take the responsibility,” said Cerizet. “I do not ask such a sacrifice of you,” replied Barker; “you may be instructed to receive them. Endorse them, and I will undertake to recover the money.” “I am surprised that d’Estourny should show so little confidence in me,” said Cerizet. “In his position,” replied Barker, “you can hardly blame him for having put his eggs in different baskets.” “Can you believe----” the little broker began, as he handed back to the Englishman the bills of exchange formally accepted. “I believe that you will take good care of his money,” said Barker. “I am sure of it! It is already on the green table of the Bourse.” “My fortune depends----” “On your appearing to lose it,” said Barker. “Sir!” cried Cerizet. “Look here, my dear Monsieur Cerizet,” said Barker, coolly interrupting him, “you will do me a service by facilitating this payment. Be so good as to write me a letter in which you tell me that you are sending me these bills receipted on d’Estourny’s account, and that the collecting officer is to regard the holder of the letter as the possessor of the three bills.” “Will you give me your name?” “No names,” replied the English capitalist. “Put ‘The bearer of this letter and these bills.’--You will be handsomely repaid for obliging me.” “How?” said Cerizet. “In one word--You mean to stay in France, do not you?” “Yes, monsieur.” “Well, Georges d’Estourny will never re-enter the country.” “Pray why?” “There are five persons at least to my knowledge who would murder him, and he knows it.”