“Oh, your uncle is too sentimental. For the last hour I have been trying to find motives for this intervention. Evidently Lichtenbach wishes to throw us off the scent by this demonstration of affection for Mademoiselle de Trémont, but it is this very thing which awakens my suspicions. Do you know what Barentin, of the Supreme Court, told me lately? Not twenty-five per cent. of the criminals are ever discovered, and then only by their own folly. The rich calculate, and are almost sure of impunity.” “My dear father, if the whole might of the law cannot seize a murderer, how can you expect Baradier and Graff to succeed? We must be sensible, and not attempt impossibilities. We will do the best we can—you by protecting Mademoiselle de Trémont, and I by assuring her the fortune her father promised her. For the rest let us trust in Providence.” “In Providence!” growled Baradier. “Trust rather in the devil! Attend to what I tell you, Marcel. Your mother, yourself, and myself are all involved in the quarrel between Lichtenbach and your uncle. Lichtenbach is one of those revengeful _men_ who strike both their enemies and their enemies’ offspring. Trémont has met his fate; it will be our turn next.” “No, father, our turn will never come,” said Marcel, energetically. “At the very first threat, the faintest attempt, I will go to Lichtenbach myself, and settle all our accounts with him at a single time. That I swear!” Graff, clean shaven and elegantly attired, now entered the office. Baradier signed to his son to say no more, and all three mounted to the salon to join the ladies. CHAPTER IV IN his study, soberly furnished, Elias Lichtenbach, seated in front of a large Louis Fourteenth bureau, was speaking in low tones, as though afraid of being heard, to a priest, lolling at ease in an enormous armchair. By the light of the setting sun, the sharp, bony face of the banker, with his _keen_ eyes and thin, well-shaven lips, could be faintly distinguished. He was no longer the stout healthy-looking Elias of former days. The cares of life had withered the flower of youth on his cheeks, and wrinkled the once careless brow. The jaws were still pronounced, but hard and thin, like those of a powerful and ferocious man-eater. The hairy hands, long and grasping as they lay there on the desk, revealed unusual love of wealth. A black skull-cap covered Lichtenbach’s bald forehead. His visitor was a young and elegant ecclesiastic of graceful and intelligent mien. He spoke with a southern accent, which gave his voice a kind of hilarity in sound. “It will be a very profitable undertaking. The property we have in view has no value whatever at present, nothing but waste land and marshes. The purchase will be effected in your name, and when we have signed an emphyteutic lease with you, we shall at once commence building. We want an advance of three hundred thousand francs.” “There will be no difficulty there,” said Lichtenbach. “I have clients disposed to lend—”