id Madame Desvarennes of her son-in-law. If he succeed,
ask Madame Desvarennes for a million francs. I will pay it at only
twenty-five francs' discount, if you like!"

Cayrol was thoughtful. Marechal continued:

"You have known the house a long time, how is it you don't understand the
mistress better? I tell you, and remember this: between Madame
Desvarennes and the Prince there is a mortal hatred. One of the two will
destroy the other. Which? Betting is open."

"But what must I do? The Prince relies on me--"

"Go and tell him not to do so any longer."

"Faith, no! I would rather he came to my office. I should be more at
ease. Adieu, Marechal."

"Adieu, Monsieur Cayrol. But on whom will you bet?"

"Before I venture I should like to know on whose side the Princess is."

"Ah, dangler! You think too much of the women! Some day you will be let
in through that failing of yours!"

Cayrol smiled conceitedly, and went away. Marechal sat down at his desk,
and took out a sheet of paper.

"I must tell Pierre that everything is going on well here," he murmured.
"If he knew what was taking place he would soon be back, and might be
guilty of some foolery or other." So he commenced writing.

ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

Because they moved, they thought they were progressing
Everywhere was feverish excitement, dissipation, and nullity
It was a relief when they rose from the table
Money troubles are not mortal
One amuses one's self at the risk of dying
Scarcely was one scheme launched when another idea occurred
Talk with me sometimes. You will not chatter trivialities
They had only one aim, one passion--to enjoy themselves
Without a care or a cross, he grew weary like a prisoner

SERGE PANINE

By GEORGES OHNET

BOOK 4.

CHAPTER XVIII

THE UNIVERSAL CREDIT COMPANY

The banking-house of Cayrol had not a very imposing appearance. It was a
narrow two-storied building, the front blackened by time. There was a
carriage gateway, on the right-hand side of which was the entrance to the
offices. The stairs leading to the first floor were covered by a
well-worn carpet. Here was a long corridor into which the different
offices opened. On their glass doors might be read: "Payments of
dividends." "Accounts." "Foreign correspondence." "General office."
Cayrol's own room was quite at the end, and communicated with his private
apartments. Everything breathed of si