"Enough, Monsieur Plantat," said he, in a bitter tone, "I can do a
service to a person whom I esteem, love and pity with all my soul; but I
cannot sell such a service."
"Believe that I did not wish--"
"Yes, yes, you wished to pay me. Oh, don't excuse yourself, don't deny
it. There are professions, I know, in which manhood and integrity seem
to count for nothing. Why offer me money? What reason have you for
judging me so mean as to sell my favors? You are like the rest, who
can't fancy what a man in my position is. If I wanted to be rich--richer
than you--I could be so in a fortnight. Don't you see that I hold in my
hands the honor and lives of fifty people? Do you think I tell all I
know? I have here," added he, tapping his forehead, "twenty secrets that
I could sell to-morrow, if I would, for a plump hundred thousand
apiece."
He was indignant, but beneath his anger a certain sad resignation might
be perceived. He had often to reject such offers.
"If you go and resist this prejudice established for ages, and say that
a detective is honest and cannot be otherwise, that he is tenfold more
honest than any merchant or notary, because he has tenfold the
temptations, without the benefits of his honesty; if you say this,
they'll laugh in your face. I could get together to-morrow, with
impunity, without any risk, at least a million. Who would mistrust it? I
have a conscience, it's true; but a little consideration for these
things would not be unpleasant. When it would be so easy for me to
divulge what I know of those who have been obliged to trust me, or
things which I have surprised, there is perhaps a merit in holding my
tongue. And still, the first man who should come along to-morrow--a
defaulting banker, a ruined merchant, a notary who has gambled on
'change--would feel himself compromised by walking up the boulevard with
me! A policeman--fie! But old Tabaret used to say to me, that the
contempt of such people was only one form of fear."
M. Plantat was dismayed. How could he, a man of delicacy, prudence and
finesse, have committed such an awkward mistake? He had just cruelly
wounded this man, who was so well disposed toward him, and he had
everything to fear from his resentment.
"Far be it from me, dear friend," he commenced, "to intend the offence
you imagine. You have misunderstood an insignificant phrase, which I let
escape carelessly, and had no meaning at all."