The worthy merchant scratched his ear in evident perplexity. “Excuse me,” said he. “I had thought of this plan; but it seemed to me--dishonorable--and--also very dangerous. How could I explain this decrease in my stock? My creditors hate me. If they suspected anything, they would accuse me of fraud, and perhaps throw me into prison; and then----” M. Fortunat shrugged his shoulders. “When I give advice,” he roughly replied, “I furnish the means of following it without danger. Listen to me attentively. Let us suppose, for a moment, that some time ago you purchased, at a very high figure, a quantity of stocks and shares, which are to-day almost worthless, could not this unfortunate investment account for the absence of the sum which you wish to set aside? Your creditors would be obliged to value these securities, not at their present, but at their former value.” “Evidently; but, unfortunately, I do not possess any such securities.” “You can purchase them.” The coal-merchant opened his eyes in astonishment. “Excuse me,” he muttered, “I don’t exactly understand you.” He did not understand in the least; but M. Fortunat enlightened him by opening his safe, and displaying an enormous bundle of stocks and shares which had flooded the country a few years previously, and ruined a great many poor, ignorant fools which were hungering for wealth; among them were shares in the Tifila Mining Company, the Berchem Coal Mines, the Greenland Fisheries, the Mutual Trust and Loan Association, and so on. There had been a time when each of these securities would have fetched five hundred or a thousand francs at the Bourse, but now they were not worth the paper on which they were printed. “Let us suppose, my dear sir,” resumed M. Fortunat, “that you had a drawer full of these securities----” But the other did not allow him to finish. “I see,” he exclaimed; “I see--I can sell my stock, and put the proceeds in my pocket with perfect safety. There is enough to represent my capital a thousand times over.” And, in a paroxysm of delight, he added: “Give me enough of these shares to represent a capital of one hundred and twenty thousand francs; and give me some of each kind. I should like my creditors to have a variety.” Thereupon M. Fortunat counted out a pile of these worthless securities as carefully as if he had been handling bank-notes; and his client at the same time drew out his pocketbook. “How much do I owe you?” he inquired. “Three thousand francs.” The honest merchant bounded from his chair. “Three thousand francs!” he repeated. “You must be jesting. That trash is not worth a louis.”