The audacity of John Law was a thing without parallel, as had been proved a hundred times in his strange life and in a hundred places. His sheer contemptuous daring brought Philippe of Orléans to his senses. He relaxed now in his purpose, changeable as was his wont, and advanced towards Law with hand outstretched. "There, there, Monsieur L'as, I did you wrong, perhaps," said he. "But as to these hasty words, pray reconsider them at once. 'Twill have a bad effect should a breath of this get afloat. Indeed, 'twas because of some such thing that I came to see you this morning. A most unspeakable, a most incredible thing hath occurred. It comes to me with certain confirmation that there have been shares sold upon the street at twelve thousand livres to the _action_, whereas, as you very well know, fifteen thousand should be the lowest price to-day." "And what of that, your Grace?" said Law, calmly. "Is it not what you planned? Is it not what you have been expecting?" "How, sirrah! What do you mean?" "Why, I mean this, your Grace," said Law, calmly, "that since you have taken the reins, it is you who must drive the chariot. I shall suggest no plans, shall offer no remedy. But, if you still lack ability to see how and why this thing has attained this situation, I will take so much trouble as to make it plain." "Go on, then, sir," said the regent. "Is not all well? Is there any danger?" "As to danger," said Law, "we can not call it a time of danger after the worst has happened." "What do you mean?" "Why, that the worst has happened. But, as I was about to say, I shall tell you how it happened." The gaze of the regent fell. His hand trembled as he fumbled at his sword hilt. "Your Grace," said Law, calmly, "will do me the kindness to remember that when I first asked of you the charter of the Banque Générale, to be taken privately in the name of myself and my brother, I told you that any banker merited the punishment of death if he issued notes or bills of exchange without having their effective value safe in his own strong boxes." "Well, what of that?" queried the regent, weakly. "Nothing, your Grace, except that your Grace deserves the punishment of death." "How, sir! Good God!" "If the truth of this matter should ever become known, those people out there, that France yonder, would tear your Grace limb from limb, and trample you in the dust!" The livid face of the regent went paler as the other spoke. There was conviction in those tones which could not fail to reach even his heavy wits.