“Bravo!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands together.  “Bravo, my dear Mascarin, you have excelled yourself to-day!”

Worried and perplexed as Paul had been, as Mascarin concluded he sank back in his chair, sick and giddy with emotion.

“Yes,” said Mascarin in a clear and ringing voice, “I accept your praise without any affectation of false modesty.  We have no reason to fear the intervention of that grain of sand which sometimes stops the working of the machine.  Perpignan, poor fool though he is, will be our best friend, and will do our work quite unconsciously.  Can the Duke retain any atom of suspicion after these minute investigations?  Impossible.  But to remove the slightest element of doubt, I have another and an additional plan.  I will make him retrace the path upon which he has started.  He shall take Paul to all these various places, and at all of them the statements will be even more fully confirmed.  Paul, the son-in-law of Martin Rigal, the husband of Flavia, will be recognized in the Rue Montmartre, the Rue Jacob, and the Rue de la Harpe.  He will be joyfully welcomed in the Rue d’Arras; Fritz will embrace his ungrateful pupil; Vigoureux will remind him of his skillful feats on the trapeze; the Lorgelin family will press the lad whom they gave shelter to, to their hearts, and this will happen, Catenac, because I will it, and because all the people from the portress in the Rue Montmartre to the Lorgelins are my slaves, and dare not disobey one single command which I may issue.”

Catenac rose slowly and solemnly from his seat.

“I recognize your patience and ingenuity thoroughly, only I am going with one word to crush the fabric of hope that you have so carefully erected.”

Catenac might be a coward, he might also be a traitor but he was a clever and clear-sighted man too.  Consequently Hortebise shivered as he heard these words, but Mascarin smiled disdainfully, basking in his dream of success.

“Go on then,” said he.

“Well, then, let me tell you that you will not overreach and deceive the Duke.”

“And why not, pray?” asked Mascarin.  “But are you sure that I wish to deceive him?  You have not been open with me, why should I be frank with you?  Am I in the habit of confiding in those who do not repose confidence in me?  Does Perpignan for a moment suspect the part that he is to play?  Why may I not have judged it best to keep from you the fact that Paul is really the child you are seeking?”

Mascarin spoke so confidently that Catenac gazed upon him, hardly knowing to what conclusion to come, for his conscience was by no means clear.  His intellect quickly dived into the depths of all probabilities, and yet he could not see in all these combinations any possible peril to himself.

“I only hope,” said he, “that Paul is all that you represent him to be; but why all these precautions?  Only, mark my words, the Duke has an infallible way of detecting, or rather of preventing, any attempt at imposition.  It is ever thus, the most trivial circumstance will overset the best laid plans, and the inevitable destroy the combinations of the most astute intellect.”