The gentleman to whom Payot spoke so confidently was a delightful man, passionately fond of children, somewhat abrupt to strangers, but very warm-hearted and sympathetic with those he knew. He bore a very remarkable resemblance to Dr. Villebois, with his bald head, clean-shaven face and bushy side-whiskers. He had a bourgeois mien, very talkative and gay, and usually spoke in a loud voice, which is considered so objectionable by the English. "Bah!" he exclaimed, "I would not touch them with a ten-foot pole. That mine is a fraud. I know it." "And how does monsieur know it?" enquired Payot, his heart thumping for a very different reason from that which excited it a few moments ago. "Wait a bit, and monsieur will see. I notice they stand at 50 frs. now, but to-morrow monsieur will find them drop. Oh yes," he added, as Payot looked flushed and angry at the man's cynical smile, "you will see. Mark my words and you will see them drop to 30 frs. and then to 20 frs.--10 frs.--5 frs.--and then to this," and he made a circle with his forefinger and thumb, and winked his eye with a chuckle. Payot got very red in the face, and cast a defiant glance at the Agent de Bourse. "Has monsieur got many?" the broker enquired. "Yes, I am the proud possessor of a million francs worth." "Holy Virgin," cried the agent in a mocking tone, "what a fool!" "Does monsieur wish to insult me then?" cried Payot. "I think I know what I am doing better than he does. I know the mine and I know the promoters." "I beg monsieur's pardon a thousand times," replied the agent, feeling a little ashamed of himself and assuming a kinder tone, "but I also know the promoters, and if monsieur will take my poor advice, which I give without the least prejudice or self interest, monsieur will sell his shares as quickly as he can. See," he added, as he took up the tape once more, "regardez-la," and the letters spelt out, 'Jerusalems 45 frs.--35 frs.--20 frs.--17 frs. 50--15 frs.--10 frs.' Payot gazed at them in terror. He shut his eyes and would have fallen but for his friend, the agent, who caught hold of him and steadied him. "Come with me," he said in a kindly voice, and taking him to the nearest café gave him a glass of brandy. The brandy revived him and he thanked his friend. "Now, my dear sir," he replied, "permit me to sell your shares for you." Payot squeezed his hand. "Merci, monsieur," he replied, "I would gladly do so, but my shares are all underwritten, and I have not received them yet." The broker whistled. "Diable, what a misfortune!" he exclaimed. "Anyhow, here is my card. Call on me to-morrow at my office, and if I can be of any assistance, you may rely on me." He looked at the card which bore the name:-- [Illustration: JEAN BEAUPAIRE. 99a, RUE ST. HONORE, PARIS.] The next day the shares dropped--to nine--and finally to eight francs.