Catenac’s sunken eyes blazed as he thought of the prospective millions.

“May the devil fly away with all scruples!” cried he.  “My friends, I am yours soul and body; you may rely on your devoted Catenac.”

The doctor and Mascarin exchanged a look of triumph.

“Of course we share and share alike,” observed the lawyer.  “It is true that I come in rather late; but the part I play is a delicate and an important one, and you can do nothing without me.”

“You shall have your share,” answered Mascarin evasively.

“One word more,” said the lawyer.  “Do you think that the Duke has kept nothing back?  The infant was hardly seen by him or the Duchess; but Jean saw it, and he, though very old and infirm, would come forward at any moment to defend the name and honor of the Champdoce family.”

“Well, and what then?”

“Jean, you know, was against the substitution of another child.  May he not have foreseen the chance of such a case as this arising?”

Mascarin looked grave.  “I have thought of that before,” returned he; “but what can be done?”

“I will find out,” said Catenac.  “Jean has the most implicit confidence in me, and I will question him.”

The cold calmness of the lawyer had vanished, and Catenac only displayed the zealous eagerness of the man who, admitted at a late hour into an enterprise which he imagines will be lucrative, burns to do as much as he can to further it.

“But,” added he, as an after-thought, “how can we be certain that there is no one to recognize Paul?”

“I can answer for that; his poverty had isolated him from all but a woman named Rose, and I took care that she should be sent to the prison of St. Lazare.  At one time I was a little anxious, as I heard that Paul had a patron; but he, as I have found out, was the Count de Mussidan, the murderer of Montlouis, who, as you may have guessed, was Paul’s father.”

“We have nothing, then, to fear from that quarter,” said the doctor.

“Nothing; and while you get on with your work, I will hurry on Paul’s marriage with Rigal’s daughter.  But this will not prevent my busying myself in another quarter; for before a month Henri de Croisenois will have floated his Company, and become the husband of Sabine de Mussidan.”

“I think that it is about time for dinner,” remarked Hortebise, and, turning to the protege of the association, he added, “Come, Paul.”

But Paul made no movement, and then for the first time it was seen that the poor boy had fainted, and they had to sprinkle cold water upon him before he regained consciousness.

“Surely,” remarked the doctor, “it is not the idea of a trifling operation that you will not feel which has so frightened you?”

Paul shook his head.  “It is not that,” said he.

“What, then, is it?”

“Simply that the real man exists; I know him, and know where he lives.”