He was a man still young, small, thick-set, and vulgar. At the first glance, nothing of him could be seen but his abdomen, - a big, great, and ponderous abdomen, seat of his thoughts, and tabernacle of his aspirations, over which dangled a double gold chain, loaded with trinkets. Above an apoplectic neck, red as that of a turkey-cock, stood his little head, covered with coarse red hair, cut very short. He wore a heavy beard, trimmed in the form of a fan.
His large, full-moon face was divided in two by a nose as flat as a Kalmuck's, and illuminated by two small eyes, in which could be read the most thorough duplicity.
Seeing M. de Traggers and M. Costeclar engaged in conversation, "Why! you know each other?" he said.
M. de Traggers advanced a step, "We are even-intimate friends," he replied. "And it is very lucky that we should have met. I am brought here by the same matter as our dear Costeclar; and I was just explaining to him that he has been too hasty, and that it would be best to wait three or four days longer."
"That's just what I told him," echoed the honorable financier.
Maxence understood only one thing, - that M. de Tregars had penetrated M. Costeclar's designs; and he could not sufficiently admire his presence of mind, and his skill in grasping an unexpected opportunity.
"Fortunately there is nothing done yet," added M. Latterman.
"And it is yet time to alter what has been agreed on," said M. de Traggers. And, addressing himself to Costeclar, "Come," he added, "we'll fix things with M. Latterman."
But the other, who remembered the scene in the Rue St. Gilles, and who had his own reasons to be alarmed, would sooner have jumped out of the window.
"I am expected,:' he stammered. "Arrange matters without me."
"Then you give me carte blanche?"
Ah, if the brilliant financier had dared! But he felt upon him such threatening eyes, that he dared even make a gesture of denial.
"Whatever you do will be satisfactory," he said in the tone of a man who sees himself lost.
And, as he was going out of the door, M. de Traggers stepped into M. Latterman's private office. He remained only five minutes; and when he joined Maxence, whom he had begged to wait for him, "I think that we have got them," he said as they walked off.
Their next visit was to M. Saint Pavin, at the office of "The Financial Pilot." Every one must have seen at least one copy of that paper with, its ingenious vignette, representing a bold mariner steering a boat, filled with timid passengers, towards the harbor of Million, over a stormy sea, bristling with the rocks of failure and the shoals of ruin. The office of "The Pilot" is, in fact, less a newspaper office than a sort of general business agency.
As at M. Latterman's, there are clerks scribbling behind wire screens, small windows, a cashier, and an immense blackboard, on which the latest quotations of the Rente, and other French and foreign securities, are written in chalk.
As "The Pilot" spends some hundred thousand francs a year in advertising, in order to obtain subscribers; as, on the other hand, it only costs three francs a year, - it is clear that it is not on its subscriptions that it realizes any profits. It has other sources of income: its brokerages first; for it buys, sells, and executes, as the prospectus says, all orders for stocks, bonds, or other securities, for the best interests of the client. And it has plenty of business.
To the opulent brokerages, must be added advertising and puffing, - another mine. Six times out of ten, when a new enterprise is set on foot, the organizers send for Saint Pavin. Honest men, or knaves, they must all pass through his hands. They know it, and are resigned in advance.
"We rely upon you," they say to him.
"What advantages have you to offer?" he replies.
Then they discuss the operation, the expected profits of the new company, and M. Saint Pavin's demands. For a hundred thousand francs he promises bursts of lyrism; for fifty thousand he will be enthusiastic only. Twenty thousand francs will secure a moderate praise of the affair; ten thousand, a friendly neutrality. And, if the said company refuses any advantages to "The Pilot"
"Ah, you must beware!" says Saint Pavin.
And from the very next number he commences his campaign. He is moderate at first, and leaves a door open for his retreat. He puts forth doubts only. He does not know much about it. "It may be an excellent thing; it may be a wretched one: the safest is to wait and see."
That's the first hint. If it remains without result, he takes up his pen again, and makes his doubts more pointed.
He knows how to steer clear of libel suits, how to handle figures so as to demonstrate, according to the requirements of the case, that two and two make three, or make five. It is seldom, that, before the, third article, the company does not surrender at discretion.
All Paris knows him; and he has many friends. When M. de Traggers and Maxence arrived, they found the office full of people - speculators, brokers, go-be-tweens-come there to discuss the fluctuations of the day and the probabilities of the evening market.
"M. Saint Pavin is engaged," one of the clerks told them.
Indeed, his coarse voice could be distinctly heard behind the screen.
Soon he appeared, showing out an old gentleman, who seemed utterly confused at the scene, and to whom he was screaming, "No, sir, no! 'The Financial Pilot' does not take that sort of business; and I find you very bold to come and propose to me a twopenny rascality." But, noticing Maxence, "M. Favoral!" he said. "By Jove! it is your good star that has brought you here. Come into the private office, my dear sir: come, we'll have some fun now."
Many of the people who were in the office had a word to say to M.
Saint Pavin, some advice to ask him, an order to transmit, or some news to communicate. They had all stepped forward, and were holding out their hands with a friendly smile. He set them aside with his usual rudeness.
"By and by. I am busy now: leave me alone."