“Now if you draw up a deed of partnership with the MM. Cointet, and receive fifteen thousand francs of capital; and if you invest it in the funds at the present moment, it will bring you in an income of two thousand francs. You can live on two thousand francs in the provinces. Bear in mind, too, madame, that, given certain contingencies, there will be yet further payments. I say ‘contingencies,’ because we must lay our accounts with failure.
“Very well,” continued Petit-Claud, “now these things I am sure that I can obtain for you. First of all, David’s release from prison; secondly, fifteen thousand francs, a premium paid on his discovery, whether the experiments fail or succeed; and lastly, a partnership between David and the MM. Cointet, to be taken out after private experiment made jointly. The deed of partnership for the working of the patent should be drawn up on the following basis: The MM. Cointet to bear all the expenses, the capital invested by David to be confined to the expenses of procuring the patent, and his share of the profits to be fixed at twenty-five percent. You are a clearheaded and very sensible woman, qualities which are not often found combined with great beauty; think over these proposals, and you will see that they are very favorable.”
Poor Eve in her despair burst into tears. “Ah, sir! why did you not come yesterday evening to tell me this? We should have been spared disgrace and—and something far worse—”
“I was talking with the Cointets until midnight. They are behind Métivier, as you must have suspected. But how has something worse than our poor David’s arrest happened since yesterday evening?”
“Here is the awful news that I found when I awoke this morning,” she said, holding out Lucien’s letter. “You have just given me proof of your interest in us; you are David’s friend and Lucien’s; I need not ask you to keep the secret—”
“You need not feel the least anxiety,” said Petit-Claud, as he returned the letter. “Lucien will not take his life. Your husband’s arrest was his doing; he was obliged to find some excuse for leaving you, and this exit of his looks to me like a piece of stage business.”
The Cointets had gained their ends. They had tormented the inventor and his family, until, worn out by the torture, the victims longed for a respite, and then seized their opportunity and made the offer. Not every inventor has the tenacity of the bulldog that will perish with his teeth fast set in his capture; the Cointets had shrewdly estimated David’s character. The tall Cointet looked upon David’s imprisonment as the first scene of the first act of the drama. The second act opened with the proposal which Petit-Claud had just made. As arch-schemer, the attorney looked upon Lucien’s frantic folly as a bit of unhoped-for luck, a chance that would finally decide the issues of the day.
Eve was completely prostrated by this event; Petit-Claud saw this, and meant to profit by her despair to win her confidence, for he saw at last how much she influenced her husband. So far from discouraging Eve, he tried to reassure her, and very cleverly diverted her thoughts to the prison. She should persuade David to take the Cointets into partnership.
“David told me, madame, that he only wished for a fortune for your sake and your brother’s; but it should be clear to you by now that to try to make a rich man of Lucien would be madness. The youngster would run through three fortunes.”
Eve’s attitude told plainly enough that she had no more illusions left with regard to her brother. The lawyer waited a little so that her silence should have the weight of consent.
“Things being so, it is now a question of you and your child,” he said. “It rests with you to decide whether an income of two thousand francs will be enough for your welfare, to say nothing of old Séchard’s property. Your father-in-law’s income has amounted to seven or eight thousand francs for a long time past, to say nothing of capital lying out at interest. So, after all, you have a good prospect before you. Why torment yourself?”
Petit-Claud left Eve Séchard to reflect upon this prospect. The whole scheme had been drawn up with no little skill by the tall Cointet the evening before.
“Give them the glimpse of a possibility of money in hand,” the lynx had said, when Petit-Claud brought the news of the arrest; “once let them grow accustomed to that idea, and they are ours; we will drive a bargain, and little by little we shall bring them down to our price for the secret.”
The argument of the second act of the commercial drama was in a manner summed up in that speech.
Mme. Séchard, heartbroken and full of dread for her brother’s fate, dressed and came downstairs. An agony of terror seized her when she thought that she must cross Angoulême alone on the way to the prison. Petit-Claud gave little thought to his fair client’s distress. When he came back to offer his arm, it was from a tolerably Machiavellian motive; but Eve gave him credit for delicate consideration, and he allowed her to thank him for it. The little attention, at such a moment, from so hard a man, modified Mme. Séchard’s previous opinion of Petit-Claud.
“I am taking you round by the longest way,” he said, “and we shall meet nobody.”
“For the first time in my life, monsieur, I feel that I have no right to hold up my head before other people; I had a sharp lesson given to me last night—”
“It will be the first and the last.”
“Oh! I certainly shall not stay in the town now—”
“Let me know if your husband consents to the proposals that are all but definitely offered by the Cointets,” said Petit-Claud at the gate of the prison; “I will come at
