, and I--" he blew his nose with a tremendous peal, "I--I beg
your pardon for forgetting my business, again."

"Not at all!" exclaimed Clemenceau, while Antonino, angry at having
misjudged the bereaved parent, offered him the hand he had previously
refused.

"I thank you both," said M. Cantagnac, hastening to dry his tears which
might have seemed of the crocodile sort when they had time to remember
he had been a notary. "This is not my usual bearing! Three years ago I
was called the Merry One, for I was always laughing, but now"--he gave a
great gulp at a sob like a rosy-gilled salmon taking in a fly and
abruptly said:

"So you want to sell your house, with all belongings? Which are--"

"About twelve acres, mostly young wood, but some rocky ground ornamental
enough, which will never be productive. Do you mind getting the plan,
Antonino? It is hanging up in my study."

Antonino went out, not sorry to be beyond earshot of the boisterous
negotiator.

"Young wood, eh?" repeated the latter, "humph! lots of stony ground!
ahem! yet it is pretty and so near town. I wonder you sell it."

"I want ready money," returned Clemenceau, bluntly.

"So we all do, ha, ha! But you surely could raise on it by mortgage."

"I have tried that."

"The deuce you have! That's strange, when the Emperor said your
discovery--"

"It is a gold mine, but like gold mines, it has plunged the discoverer
into debt."

"I dare say it would! and I suppose it is not so certain-sure as the
newspapers assert--"

"I beg your pardon, it is beyond all doubt," replied Clemenceau,
sharply.

CHAPTER XVI.

STRIKE NOT WOMAN, EVEN WITH ROSES.

"Stop a bit," said M. Cantagnac, pulling a newspaper out of his pocket.
"This is a journal I picked up in the cars. I always do that. There is
sure to be some passenger to throw them down and so I never buy any
myself when I am traveling, ha, ha! Well, in this very sheet, there is a
long article about you. It is called 'The Ideal Cannon' and the writer
declares that the experiment was a great hit, ha, ha! and he undertakes
to explain the new system."

Clemenceau smiled contemptuously. He was not one of those to make a
secret public property on which a nation's salvation might depend. In
such momentous matters, he would have had arsenals, armories, navy yards
and military museums labeled over the door:

"Speech is silver, silence is of gold;
Death unto him who dares the tale unfold!"

"