"We are agreed," said the doctor, "unless any complications appear later." "What do you mean?" "I mean that the figure of a hundred thousand francs forms a suitable basis for discussion, that's all." Siméon hesitated a second. The man struck him as rather greedy. However, he sat down once more; and the doctor at once resumed the conversation: "Your real name, please." "You mustn't ask me that. I tell you, there are reasons . . ." "Then it will be two hundred thousand francs." "Eh?" said Siméon, with a start. "I say, that's a bit steep! I never heard of such a price." "You're not obliged to accept," replied Géradec, calmly. "We are discussing a bargain. You are free to do as you please." "But, look here, once you agree to fix me up a false passport, what can it matter to you whether you know my name or not?" "It matters a great deal. I run an infinitely greater risk in assisting the escape--for that's the only word--of a spy than I do in assisting the escape of a respectable man." "I'm not a spy." "How do I know? Look here, you come to me to propose a shady transaction. You conceal your name and your identity; and you're in such a hurry to disappear from sight that you're prepared to pay me a hundred thousand francs to help you. And, in the face of that, you lay claim to being a respectable man! Come, come! It's absurd! A respectable man does not behave like a burglar or a murderer." Old Siméon did not wince. He slowly wiped his forehead with his handkerchief. He was evidently thinking that Géradec was a hardy antagonist and that he would perhaps have done better not to go to him. But, after all, the contract was a conditional one. There would always be time enough to break it off. "I say, I say!" he said, with an attempt at a laugh. "You are using big words!" "They're only words," said the doctor. "I am stating no hypothesis. I am content to sum up the position and to justify my demands." "You're quite right." "Then we're agreed?" "Yes. Perhaps, however--and this is the last observation I propose to make--you might let me off more cheaply, considering that I'm a friend of Mme. Mosgranem's." "What do you suggest by that?" asked the doctor. "Mme. Mosgranem herself told me that you charged her nothing." "That's true, I charged her nothing," replied the doctor, with a fatuous smile, "but perhaps she presented me with a good deal. Mme. Mosgranem was one of those attractive women whose favors command their own price." There was a silence. Old Siméon seemed to feel more and more uncomfortable in his interlocutor's presence. At last the doctor sighed: "Poor Mme. Mosgranem!" "What makes you speak like that?" asked Siméon. "What! Haven't you heard?" "I have had no letters from her since she left." "I see. I had one last night; and I was greatly surprised to learn that she was back in France." "In France! Mme. Mosgranem!" "Yes. And she even gave me an appointment for this morning, a very strange appointment."