“Half-past three. Come, Maxime, be quick. My carriage is waiting. The
notary expects us between three and four o’clock.”
This notary was an exceptional man. He took an interest in the affairs
of his clients, and sometimes even listened to hear their explanations.
When Daniel had told him what he intended doing, he replied,--
“You have nothing to do, M. Champcey, but to give M. de Brevan a
power-of-attorney in proper form.”
“Would it be possible,” asked Daniel, “to have it drawn up at once?”
“Why not? It can be recorded this evening; and to-morrow”--
“Well, then, lose no time.”
The notary called his chief clerk, gave him briefly his instructions,
then, making a sign to Daniel, he drew him into a kind of recess
resembling an enormous cupboard, adjoining his office, in which he
“confessed” his clients, as he called it. When they were there, he
said,--
“How is it, M. Champcey, do you really owe this M. de Brevan so much
money?”
“Not a cent.”
“And you leave your entire fortune thus in his hands! You must have
marvellous confidence in the man.”
“As much as in myself.”
“That is a good deal. And if he should, during your absence, run away
with the fifty thousand dollars?”
Daniel was a little shaken; but he remained firm.
“Oh!” he said, “there are still some honest people in the world.”
“Ah?” laughed the notary.
And, from the manner in which he shook his head, it was clearly seen
that experience had made him very sceptical on that subject.
“If you would only listen to me,” he resumed, “I could prove to you”--