Ah! if this fellow went to see the minister, most assuredly he wanted a favor from him.

But what?

It was extraordinary, but before Vaudrey, Molina who could hold his own among rascals, found himself ill at ease.  There was in the frank look of this ninny, as Molina the Tumbler had one evening called him while talking politics, such direct honesty that the banker, accustomed as he was to dealings with sharks and intriguers, did not quite know how to open the question, nevertheless a very important matter was in hand.

“A rich plum,” thought Molina.

A matter of railways, a concession to be gained.  A matter of private interest, disguised under the swelling terms of the public welfare, the national needs.  Millions were to be gained.  Molina was charged with the duty of sounding the President of the Council and the Minister of Public Works.  Two honest men.  The dodge, as the Tumbler said, was to make them swallow the affair under the guise of patriotism.  A strategical railroad.  The means of rapid locomotion in case of mobilization.  With such high-sounding words, strategy, frontier, safety, they could carry a good many points.

Unfortunately, Vaudrey was rather skittish on these particular questions, besides he was informed on the matter.  He felt his flesh creep while Molina was speaking.  Just before, on seeing the banker’s card, the idea of the money of which the fat man was one of the incarnations, had suddenly dawned upon him as a hope.  Who knows?  By Molina’s aid, he might, perhaps, free himself from anxiety about the Gochard bill of exchange!—­But from the minister’s first words, although the banker could not get to the point, intimidated as he was by Sulpice’s honest look, it was clear that Vaudrey surmised some repugnant suggestions in the hesitating words of this man.

What!  Molina hesitating?  He did not go straight to the point, squarely, according to his custom, Molina the illustrious Tumbler?  Eh! no! the intentionally cold bearing of the minister decidedly discomposed him.  Vaudrey’s glance never wandered from his for a moment.  When the promoter pronounced the word Bourse, a disdainful curl played upon Sulpice’s lips, but not a word escaped him.  Molina heard his own voice break the silence of the ministerial cabinet and he felt himself entangled.  He came to propose a combination, a bonus, and he did not suspect that Vaudrey would refuse to have a hand in it.  And here, this devilish minister appeared not to understand, did not understand, perhaps, or else he understood too well.  Molina was not accustomed to such hard-of-hearing people.  With his fat hand, he had dropped into the hands of senators and ministers of the former regime, a sum for which the only receipt given was a smile.  He was accustomed to the style of conversation carried on by hints and ended between intelligent people by a shake of the hand, that in which some bits of paper rested:  bank-notes or paid-up shares.  And this Vaudrey knew nothing!  So he felt himself obliged to explain himself clearly, to stoop to dotting every i, at the risk of being shown out of doors.