y disgusted with himself, and deeply humiliated
by the shameful intrigue to which he had stooped, he took a secret
satisfaction in crushing his accomplice with his imaginary superiority
and lordly disdain. According as his humor was good or bad, he
called him "my dear extortioner," "Mons. Fortunat," or "Master
Twenty-per-cent." But though these sneers and insults drove the
obsequious smile from M. Fortunat's lips, he was quite capable of
including them in the bill under the head of sundries.

The unvarying deference and submission which M. de Valorsay's adviser
displayed made his failure to keep the present appointment all the
more remarkable. Such neglect of the commonest rules of courtesy was
inconceivable on the part of so polite a man; and the marquis's anger
gradually changed to anxiety. "What can have happened?" he thought.

He was trying to decide whether he should leave or stay, when he heard a
key grate in the lock of the outer door, and then some quick steps
along the ante-room. "At last--here he is!" he muttered, with a sigh of
relief.

He expected to see M. Fortunat enter the room at once, but he was
disappointed. The agent had no desire to show himself in the garb which
he had assumed for his excursion with Chupin; and so he had hastened to
his room to don his wonted habiliments. He also desired a few moments
for deliberation.

If--as was most probably the case--M. de Valorsay were ignorant of the
Count de Chalusse's critical condition, was it advisable to tell him of
it? M. Fortunat thought not, judging with reason that this would lead
to a discussion and very possibly to a rupture, and he wished to avoid
anything of the kind until he was quite certain of the count's death.

Meanwhile the marquis was thinking--he was a trifle late about it--that
he had done wrong to wait in that drawing-room for three mortal hours.
Was such conduct worthy of him? Had he shown himself proper respect?
Would not M. Fortunat construe this as an acknowledgment of the
importance of his services and his client's urgent need? Would he not
become more exacting, more exorbitant in his demands? If the marquis
could have made his escape unheard, he would, no doubt, have done so;
but this was out of the question. So he resorted to a stratagem which
seemed to him likely to save his compromised dignity. He stretched
himself out in his arm-chair, closed his eyes, and pretended to doze.
Then, when M. Fortunat at last entered the drawi