“Are you aware,”--he asked at last, “that Jost, to save his ‘press’ prestige, has turned informer against you?” Pérousse sprang up, white with fury. “By Heaven, if he has dared!--” “There is no ‘if’ in the case”--said Lutera very coldly--“He has, as he himself says, ‘done his duty.’ You must be pretty well cognisant of what a Jew’s notions of ‘duty’ are! They can be summed up in one sentence;--‘to save his own pocket.’ Jost is driven to fury and desperation by the sudden success of the rival newspaper, which has been so prominently favoured by the King. The shares in his own journalistic concerns are going down rapidly, and he is determined--naturally enough--to take care of himself before anyone else. He has sold out of every company with which you have been, or are associated--and has--so I understand,--sent a complete list of your proposed financial ‘deals,’ investments and other ‘stock’ to--” He paused. “Well!” exclaimed Pérousse irascibly--“To whom?” “To those whom it may concern,”--replied Lutera evasively--“I really can give you no exact information. I have said enough by way of warning!” Pérousse looked at him heedfully, and what he saw in that dark brooding face was not of a quieting or satisfactory nature. “You are as deeply involved as I am--” he began. “Pardon!” and the Marquis drew himself up with some dignity--“I _was_ involved;--I am not now. I have also taken care of myself! I may have been misled, but I shall let no one suffer for my errors. I have sent in my resignation.” “Fool!” ejaculated Pérousse, forgetting all courtesy in the sudden access of rage that took possession of him at these words;--“Fool, I say! At the very moment when you ought to stick to the ship, you desert it!” “Are _you_ not ready to run to the helm?” enquired Lutera with a satiric smile; “Surely you can have no doubt but that his Majesty will command you to take office!”