aten it all."

"Oh! my dear, my dear!" said the elder Duchess, "you really go too far."

The two Dukes, hearing a coach stop at the door with the clatter of
horses checked in full gallop, bowed to the ladies and left them, going
into the Duc de Grandlieu's study, whither came the gentleman from the
Rue Honore-Chevalier--no less a man than the chief of the King's private
police, the obscure but puissant Corentin.

"Go on," said the Duc de Grandlieu; "go first, Monsieur de Saint-Denis."

Corentin, surprised that the Duke should have remembered him, went
forward after bowing low to the two noblemen.

"Always about the same individual, or about his concerns, my dear sir,"
said the Duc de Grandlieu.

"But he is dead," said Corentin.

"He has left a partner," said the Duc de Chaulieu, "a very tough
customer."

"The convict Jacques Collin," replied Corentin.

"Will you speak, Ferdinand?" said the Duke de Chaulieu to his friend.

"That wretch is an object of fear," said the Duc de Grandlieu, "for
he has possessed himself, so as to be able to levy blackmail, of the
letters written by Madame de Serizy and Madame de Maufrigneuse to Lucien
Chardon, that man's tool. It would seem that it was a matter of system
in the young man to extract passionate letters in return for his own,
for I am told that Mademoiselle de Grandlieu had written some--at least,
so we fear--and we cannot find out from her--she is gone abroad."

"That little young man," replied Corentin, "was incapable of so much
foresight. That was a precaution due to the Abbe Carlos Herrera."

Corentin rested his elbow on the arm of the chair on which he was
sitting, and his head on his hand, meditating.

"Money!--The man has more than we have," said he. "Esther Gobseck served
him as a bait to extract nearly two million francs from that well of
gold called Nucingen.--Gentlemen, get me full legal powers, and I will
rid you of the fellow."

"And--the letters?" asked the Duc de Grandlieu.

"Listen to me, gentlemen," said Corentin, standing up, his weasel-face
betraying his excitement.

He thrust his hands into the pockets of his black doeskin trousers,
shaped over the shoes. This great actor in the historical drama of the
day had only stopped to put on a waistcoat and frock-coat, and had not
changed his morning trousers, so well he knew how grateful men can be
for immediate action in certain cases. He walked up and down the room
quite at his ease, haranguing lo