“Come! Peace!” said Hans, in tones of authority. “We are not here to exchange compliments with one another, but to find some solution to the difficulty. It is true the Baroness has failed. We know the reason now, when it is too late. She has been stupid enough to fall in love with this young man, and has only half accomplished her mission. When she led him on to talk confidentially to her, she was afraid that he would despise her later on. To sum up, the _coup_ failed. The young man is now on his guard; he will say nothing more, unless I undertake, as a last resource, to question him. For the present, however, the situation is as follows: We possess an excellent patent, similar, as regards the composition of the powder, to the one taken under the name of Trémont. But we are in ignorance of the trick of working it. Our powder is a brutal explosive. The Trémont powder is graduated in action. There is the real value of the discovery. Under these conditions, Dalgetty could establish a claim, and accuse of counterfeit the exploiters of the Trémont patent, which was taken out after ours. The result—scandal, trial, blackmailing. This is the line we must follow, and it may serve as a means for a settlement.” “In what way?” asked Lichtenbach, interested. “By sending a trusty ambassador to Baradier and Graff to offer them terms of peace.” “They will not accept!” “How do you know? It all depends on the manner in which the proposal is made; you may have to concede to them both material and moral advantages, in order to reach a fusion of the two affairs.” “That would mean safety, and even triumph!” exclaimed Lichtenbach. “Just let me get them into my power, and they shall not escape so easily!” “Then I will rely upon you! Ah! You sly rogue, you have come back to life again.” “The fact is, the idea of being their dupe was killing me! The whole of my life would have been spent in vain! Ever since I have been in Paris, I have only had one desire—to injure them! Give up this joy! I could not! Whom shall I send them?” “A priest,” insinuated Agostini. “The Abbé d’Escayrac, if he would do me this service! Fine idea! He well knows how to lull one’s conscience by moulding a man’s intelligence to his will. But what can we offer Baradier and Graff?” “Anything you imagine they might decently accept. What will it cost you? Have you not a daughter? She has been carefully brought up, and is of an amiable disposition, so I am told.” “Well!” “Offer her to young Baradier, with an enormous dowry. If Sophia were only willing, she would arrange the matter well enough!” This time, Agostini manifested symptoms of violent discontent. He brought his hand down forcibly on the table, and, looking at the others with murderous eyes, said— “And what is to become of me in this combination? Are you forgetting that Mademoiselle Lichtenbach is my affianced wife?” “The engagement can easily be broken,” replied Hans, coldly. “Do you intend to jest with me?”