of me," said he, with an air
of blaming himself. "The more rascally our business is, the more honesty
is necessary. But look here, Monsieur le Baron, make it six hundred, and
I will give you a bit of advice."

"Gif it, and trust to my generosity."

"I will risk it," Contenson said, "but it is playing high. In such
matters, you see, we have to work underground. You say, 'Quick
march!'--You are rich; you think that money can do everything. Well,
money is something, no doubt. Still, money can only buy men, as the two
or three best heads in our force so often say. And there are many things
you would never think of which money cannot buy.--You cannot buy good
luck. So good police work is not done in this style. Will you show
yourself in a carriage with me? We should be seen. Chance is just as
often for us as against us."

"Really-truly?" said the Baron.

"Why, of course, sir. A horseshoe picked up in the street led the chief
of the police to the discovery of the infernal machine. Well, if we were
to go to-night in a hackney coach to Monsieur de Saint-Germain, he would
not like to see you walk in any more than you would like to be seen
going there."

"Dat is true," said the Baron.

"Ah, he is the greatest of the great! such another as the famous
Corentin, Fouche's right arm, who was, some say, his natural son, born
while he was still a priest; but that is nonsense. Fouche knew how to
be a priest as he knew how to be a Minister. Well, you will not get this
man to do anything for you, you see, for less than ten thousand-franc
notes--think of that.--But he will do the job, and do it well. Neither
seen nor heard, as they say. I ought to give Monsieur de Saint-Germanin
notice, and he will fix a time for your meeting in some place where no
one can see or hear, for it is a dangerous game to play policeman for
private interests. Still, what is to be said? He is a good fellow, the
king of good fellows, and a man who has undergone much persecution, and
for having saving his country too!--like me, like all who helped to save
it."

"Vell den, write and name de happy day," said the Baron, smiling at his
humble jest.

"And Monsieur le Baron will allow me to drink his health?" said
Contenson, with a manner at once cringing and threatening.

"Shean," cried the Baron to the gardener, "go and tell Chorge to sent me
one twenty francs, and pring dem to me----"

"Still, Monsieur le Baron, if you have no more information than you have