"But you can, perhaps, madame, give me further information. On what
ground does he base his charge? Were there any money dealings between
this Lemaire and Monsieur Leon?"
"I am certain there were none."
In spite of herself she was thankful to have this man, with his shrewd
business habits, his straightforward common-sense, by her side. She
felt his strength a support.
"And between Monsieur de Cadanet and the baron?"
"Ah, that is different." She hesitated, keeping her eyes fixed on M.
Bourget; then went on: "You had better know all. You are probably aware
that, owing to the incompetence of his intendant, Poissy became very
seriously involved?"
"People said, madame, that Monsieur Leon had squandered his estates,"
replied M. Bourget, speaking brusquely for the first time; "but that is
neither here nor there. I am aware that at one time the mortgages were
very heavy--very heavy indeed; and that Monsieur Leon contrived by
degrees to pay them off. To do so required money."
"Certainly," said Mme. de Beaudrillart, coldly, "he could not work
miracles. The money came from Monsieur de Cadanet, who was under a debt
of gratitude to my husband."
M. Bourget hardly heard these last words. "How much?" he said,
quickly.
"Two hundred thousand francs."
He stared at her, and brought his hand down heavily on the table.
"The same sum!"
"A coincidence."
"More than improbable," said M. Bourget, shaking his head obstinately.
"Depend upon it, this has to do with that loan of Monsieur de Cadanet's.
It was a loan?"
"Of course."
"And repaid by my money," was on M. Bourget's lips. Something,
however, withheld him, although he would have said it in all simplicity,
and without thought of anything offensive. "Repaid on his marriage," he
substituted. "I knew there was something of the sort. Depend upon it
this rascal has got hold of the transaction, and is bent upon making
capital out of it. I wish I had Monsieur Leon here, to put one or two
question."
"I believe, monsieur, I am perfectly acquainted with his affairs."
M. Bourget darted an ironical look at her, but refrained from
expression of incredulity.
"Do you, at any rate, know, madame, whether Baron Leon was in Paris or
at Poissy when he received this assistance from the defunct Monsieur de
Cadanet?"
"In Paris."
"And had he, at that time, any communication with Monsieur Lemaire!"
"I am aware of none."
"No quarrel? Were they on friendly terms!"
"No. For my son thought ill of him, and once said that if Monsieur de
Cadanet knew his real character it would be a bad day for Monsieur
Lemaire; but that was all."
"You do not think he tried to open Monsieur de Cadanet's eyes."
"Never," said Mme. de Beaudrillart, drawing herself up. "Do you imagine
he would have stooped to the position of tale-bearer?"
"I should have," said M. Bourget, frankly. "And it would have been
decidedly advantageous. However, depend upon it, madame, this
accusation has something to do with Monsieur de Cadanet's loan. As for
the theft from the letter, that is absurd. My theory is that Lemaire is
perhaps executor--at all events, that by some means or other he has
become possessed of papers which have suggested the attempt to coerce
the baron. I hope Monsieur Leon will beware of yielding. Fortunately,
Nathalie is there, and has a clear head for business."
"My son is not likely to require support," said his mother, still
haughtily. M. Bourget did not hear her; he was considering, chin on
chest.
"He has learned, somehow, that the money was lent to Monsieur Leon, and
perhaps he means to deny that it was ever repaid. You will pardon me,
madame, if I remark that in your class there are apparently strange
reticences and scruples in business matters. I once offended Monsieur
Leon, in what probably had to do with this very loan, by asking whether
he held any note or agreement which I could look at. Two hundred
thousand francs is a large sum to have been paid without so much as a
receipt!"
Mme. de Beaudrillart stood up with a smile.
"We are not so foolish as you suppose us, Monsieur Bourget. My son had
a receipt, and I can show it to you."
"In that case--" M. Bourget rubbed his hands exultantly--"I am
convinced this will be of the greatest importance. Can you put your
hand on it easily, madame?"
She answered by unlocking a cupboard. His face fell. A cupboard for
papers of value! But when he saw an iron safe fitting into the recess,
his wounded instincts recovered themselves. He could hardly restrain
himself from looking over her shoulder.
"You know the paper, madame?" he cried, eagerly.
"I placed it here myself."
She extracted an envelope from a bundle of receipts, tore it open, and
unfolded a paper.
It was a blank sheet.