Law raised in his hands a bundle of parchments, which one by one he tore across, throwing the fragments into a basket as he did so.

“The seat of Tancarville,” he said.  “The estate of Berville; the Hotel Mazarin; the lands of Bourget; the Marquisat of Charleville; the lands of Orcher; the estate of Roissy—­Gad! what a number of them I find.”

“But, Monsieur,” expostulated the Swiss, “what is that you do?  Are these not your possessions?”

“Not so, mon ami,” replied Law.  “They once were mine.  They are estates in France.  Take back these deeds.  Dead Sully may have his own again, and each of these late owners of the lands.  I wished them for a purpose.  That purpose is no longer possible, and now I wish them no more.  Take back your deeds, my friends, and bear in your minds that John Law tore them in two, and thus canceled the obligation.”

“But the moneys you have paid—­they are enormous.  Surely you will exact restitution?”

“Sirrah, could I not afford these moneys?”

“Admirably at the time,” replied the Swiss, with the freedom of long service.  “But for the future, what do we know?  Besides, it is a matter of right and justice.”

“Ah, mon ami” said Law, “right and justice are no more.  But since you speak of money, let us take precautions as to that.  We shall need some money for our journey.  See, Henri!  Take this note and get the money which it calls for.  But no!  The crowd may be too great.  Look in the drawer of my desk yonder, and take out what you find.”

The Swiss did as he was bidden, but at length returned with troubled face.

“Monsieur,” said he, “I can find but a hundred louis.”

“Put half of it back,” said Law.  “We shall not need so much.”

“But, Monsieur, I do not understand.”

“We shall not need more than fifty louis.  That is enough.  Leave the rest,” said Law.  “Leave it where you found it”

“But for whom?  Does Monsieur soon return?”

“No.  Leave it for him who may be first to find it.  These dear people without, these same people whom I have enriched, and who now will claim that I have impoverished them—­these people will demand of me everything that I have.  As a man of honor I can not deny them.  They shall have every Jot and stiver of the property of John Law, even the million or so of good coin which he brought here to Paris with him.  The coat on my back, the wheels beneath me, gold enough to pay for the charges of the inns through France—­that is all that John Law will take away with him.”

The arms of the old servant fell helpless at his side.  “Sir, this is madness,” he expostulated.

“Not so, Henri,” replied Law, leniently.  “Madness enough there has been in Paris, it is true, but madness not mine nor of my making.  For madness, look you yonder.”

He pointed a finger through the window where the stately edifice of the Palais Royal rose.