To the opulent brokerages, must be added advertising and puffing, —­another mine.  Six times out of ten, when a new enterprise is set on foot, the organizers send for Saint Pavin.  Honest men, or knaves, they must all pass through his hands.  They know it, and are resigned in advance.

“We rely upon you,” they say to him.

“What advantages have you to offer?” he replies.

Then they discuss the operation, the expected profits of the new company, and M. Saint Pavin’s demands.  For a hundred thousand francs he promises bursts of lyrism; for fifty thousand he will be enthusiastic only.  Twenty thousand francs will secure a moderate praise of the affair; ten thousand, a friendly neutrality.  And, if the said company refuses any advantages to “The Pilot”—­

“Ah, you must beware!” says Saint Pavin.

And from the very next number he commences his campaign.  He is moderate at first, and leaves a door open for his retreat.  He puts forth doubts only.  He does not know much about it.  “It may be an excellent thing; it may be a wretched one:  the safest is to wait and see.”

That’s the first hint.  If it remains without result, he takes up his pen again, and makes his doubts more pointed.

He knows how to steer clear of libel suits, how to handle figures so as to demonstrate, according to the requirements of the case, that two and two make three, or make five.  It is seldom, that, before the third article, the company does not surrender at discretion.

All Paris knows him; and he has many friends.  When M. de Tregars and Maxence arrived, they found the office full of people —­speculators, brokers, go-betweens—­come there to discuss the fluctuations of the day and the probabilities of the evening market.

“M.  Saint Pavin is engaged,” one of the clerks told them.

Indeed, his coarse voice could be distinctly heard behind the screen.  Soon he appeared, showing out an old gentleman, who seemed utterly confused at the scene, and to whom he was screaming,

“No, sir, no!  ‘The Financial Pilot’ does not take that sort of business; and I find you very bold to come and propose to me a twopenny rascality.”  But, noticing Maxence,

“M.  Favoral!” he said.  “By Jove! it is your good star that has brought you here.  Come into the private office, my dear sir:  come, we’ll have some fun now.”

Many of the people who were in the office had a word to say to M. Saint Pavin, some advice to ask him, an order to transmit, or some news to communicate.  They had all stepped forward, and were holding out their hands with a friendly smile.  He set them aside with his usual rudeness.

“By and by.  I am busy now:  leave me alone.”

And pushing Maxence towards the office-door, which he had just opened,

“Come in, come in!” he said in a tone of extraordinary impatience.

But M. de Tregars was coming in too; and, as he did not know him,