ence that
a desperate man takes everything seriously. A prisoner lying under
sentence of death would listen to the madman who should tell him that
by pronouncing some gibberish he could escape through the keyhole; for
suffering is credulous, and clings to an idea until it fails, as the
swimmer borne along by the current clings to the branch that snaps in
his hand.

Towards four o'clock that afternoon Castanier appeared among the little
knots of men who were transacting private business after 'Change. He was
personally known to some of the brokers; and while affecting to be in
search of an acquaintance, he managed to pick up the current gossip and
rumors of failure.

"Catch me negotiating bills for Claparon & Co., my boy. The bank
collector went round to return their acceptances to them this morning,"
said a fat banker in his outspoken way. "If you have any of their paper,
look out."

Claparon was in the building, in deep consultation with a man well known
for the ruinous rate at which he lent money. Castanier went forthwith in
search of the said Claparon, a merchant who had a reputation for taking
heavy risks that meant wealth or utter ruin. The money-lender walked
away as Castanier came up. A gesture betrayed the speculator's despair.

"Well, Claparon, the Bank wants a hundred thousand francs of you, and it
is four o'clock; the thing is known, and it is too late to arrange your
little failure comfortably," said Castanier.

"Sir!"

"Speak lower," the cashier went on. "How if I were to propose a piece of
business that would bring you in as much money as you require?"

"It would not discharge my liabilities; every business that I ever heard
of wants a little time to simmer in."

"I know of something that will set you straight in a moment," answered
Castanier; "but first you would have to----"

"Do what?"

"Sell your share of paradise. It is a matter of business like anything
else, isn't it? We all hold shares in the great Speculation of
Eternity."

"I tell you this," said Claparon angrily, "that I am just the man to
lend you a slap in the face. When a man is in trouble, it is no time to
pay silly jokes on him."

"I am talking seriously," said Castanier, and he drew a bundle of notes
from his pocket.

"In the first place," said Claparon, "I am not going to sell my soul
to the Devil for a trifle. I want five hundred thousand francs before I
strike----"

"Who talks of stinting you?" asked Castanier, cutti