And pushing Maxence towards the office-door, which he had just opened, " Come in, come in!" he said in a tone of extraordinary impatience.
But M. de Traggers was coming in too; and, as he did not know him, "What do you want, you?" he asked roughly.
"The gentleman is my best friend," said Maxence, turning to him;
"and I have no secret from him."
"Let him walk in, then; but, by Heaven, let us hurry!"
Once very sumptuous, the private office of the editor of "The Financial Pilot" had fallen into a state of sordid dilapidation.
If the janitor had received orders never to use a broom or a duster there, he obeyed them strictly. Disorder and dirt reigned supreme.
Papers and manuscripts lay in all directions; and on the broad sofas the mud from the boots of all those who had lounged upon them had been drying for months. On the mantel-piece, in the midst of some half-dozen dirty glasses, stood a bottle of Madeira, half empty. Finally, before the fireplace, on the carpet, and along the furniture, cigar and cigarette stumps were heaped in profusion.
As soon as he had bolted the door, coming straight to Maxence, "What has become of your father?" inquired M. Saint Pavin rudely.
Maxence started. That was the last question he expected to hear.
"I do not know," he replied.
The manager of "The Pilot" shrugged his shoulders. "That you should say so to the commissary of police, to the judges, and to all Favoral's enemies, I understand: it is your duty. That they should believe you, I understand too; for, after all, what do they care? But to me, a friend, though you may not think so, and who has reasons not to be credulous"
"I swear to you that we have no idea where he has taken refuge."
Maxence said this with such an accent of sincerity, that doubt was no longer possible. M. Saint Pavin's features expressed the utmost surprise.
"What!" he exclaimed, "your father has gone without securing the means of hearing from his family?"
"Yes."
"Without saying a word of his intentions to your mother, or your sister, or yourself?"
"Without one word.
"Without leaving any money, perhaps?"
"We found only an insignificant sum after he left." The editor of "The Pilot" made a gesture of ironical admiration. "Well, the thing is complete," he said; "and Vincent is a smarter fellow than I gave him credit for; or else he must have cared more for those infernal women of his than any one supposed."
M. de Traggers, who had remained hitherto silent, now stepped forward.
"What women?" he asked.
"How do I know?" he replied roughly. "How could any one ever find out any thing about a man who was more hermetically shut up in his coat than a Jesuit in his gown?"
"M. Costeclar -"
"That's another nice bird! Still he may possibly have discovered something of Vincent's life; for he led him a pretty dance.
Wasn't he about to marry Mlle. Favoral once?"
"Yes, in spite of herself even."
"Then you are right: he had discovered something. But, if you rely on him to tell you anything whatever, you are reckoning without your host."
"Who knows?" murmured M. de Traggers.
But M. Saint Pavin heard him not. Prey to a violent agitation, he was pacing up and down the room.
"Ah, those men of cold appearance," he growled, "those men with discreet countenance, those close-shaving calculators, those moralists! What fools they do make of themselves when once started! Who can imagine to what insane extremities this one may have been driven under the spur of some mad passion!"
And stamping violently his foot upon the carpet, from which arose clouds of dust, "And yet," he swore, "I must find him. And, by thunder! wherever he may be hid, I shall find him."
M. de Traggers was watching M. Saint Pavin with a scrutinizing eye.
"You have a great interest in finding him, then?" he said.
The other stopped short.
"I have the interest," he replied, "of a man who thought himself shrewd, and who has been taken in like a child, - of a man to whom they had promised wonders, and who finds his situation imperilled, - of a man who is tired of working for a band of brigands who heap millions upon millions, and to whom, for all reward, they offer the police-court and a retreat in the State Prison for his old age, -in a word, the interests of a man who will and shall have revenge, by all that is holy!"
"On whom?"
"On the Baron de Thaller, sir! How, in the world, has he been able to compel Favoral to assume the responsibility of all, and to disappear? What enormous sum has he given to him?"
"Sir," interrupted Maxence, "my father went off without a sou."
M. Saint Pavin burst out in a loud laugh.
"And the twelve millions?" he asked. "What has become of them?
Do you suppose they have been distributed in deeds of charity?"
And without waiting for any further objections, "And yet," he went on, "it is not with money alone that a man can be induced to disgrace himself, to confess himself a thief and a forger, to brave the galleys, to give up everything, - country, family, friends. Evidently the Baron de Thaller must have had other means of action, some hold on Favoral"
M. de Traggers interrupted him.
"You speak," he said, "as if you were absolutely certain of M. de Thaller's complicity."
Of course."
"Why don't you inform on him, then?"
The editor of "The Pilot" started back. "What!" he exclaimed, "draw the fingers of the law into my own business! You don't think of it!
Besides, what good would that do me? I have no proofs of my allegations. Do you suppose that Thaller has not taken his precautions, and tied my hands? No, no! without Favoral there is nothing to be done."
"Do you suppose, then, that you could induce him to surrender himself?"
"No, but to furnish me the proofs I need, to send Thaller where they have already sent that poor Jottras."
And, becoming more and more excited, "But it is not in a month that I should want those proofs," he went on, "nor even in two weeks, but to-morrow, but at this very moment.