One day, old Valentine showed into the drawing-room a gentleman who said that he had come on important business. I saw a man of medium height with hair which was turning grey and with a face which was wider than it was long and which was made still wider by a pair of bushy whiskers and a perpetual smile. His threadbare dress and down-at-heel shoes denoted anything but a brilliant financial position. He expressed himself at once, however, in the language of a person to whom money is no object: "I have any amount of capital behind me," he declared, cheerfully and before he had even told me his name. "My plans are made. All that remains is for you and me to come to terms." "What on?" I asked. "Why, on the business that I have come to propose to you!" "I am sorry, sir," I replied, "but I am doing no business." "That's a pity!" he cried, still more cheerfully and with his mouth spreading still farther across his face. "That's a pity! I should have been glad to take you into partnership. However, since you're not willing, I shall act alone, without of course exceeding the rights which I have in the Yard." "Your rights in the Yard?" I echoed, astounded at his assurance. "Why, rather!" he answered, with a loud laugh. "My rights: that's the only word." "I don't follow you." "I admit that it's not very clear. Well, suppose--you'll soon understand--suppose that I have come into Noël Dorgeroux's property." I was beginning to lose patience and I took the fellow up sharply: "I have no time to spare for jesting, sir. Noël Dorgeroux left no relatives except myself." "I didn't say that I had come into his property as a relative." "As what, then?" "As an heir, simply . . . as the lawful heir, specifically named as such by Noël Dorgeroux." I was a little taken aback and, after a moment's thought, rejoined: "Do you mean to say that Noël Dorgeroux made a will in your favour?" "I do." "Show it to me." "There's no need to show it to you: you've seen it." "I've seen it?" "You saw it the other day. It must be in the hands of the examining-magistrate or the solicitor." I lost my temper: "Oh, it's that you're speaking of! Well, to begin with, the will isn't valid. I have a letter from my uncle . . ." He interrupted me: "That letter doesn't affect the validity of the will. Any one will tell you that." "And then?" I exclaimed. "Granting that it is valid, Noël Dorgeroux mentions nobody in it except myself for the Lodge and his god-daughter for the Yard. The only one who benefits, except myself, is Bérangère." "Quite so, quite so," replied the man, without changing countenance. "But nobody knows what has become of Bérangère Massignac. Suppose that she were dead . . ." I grew indignant: "She's not dead! It's quite impossible that she should be dead!"