"How do you know anything—?" began Paul.
"A guess—on my honour a guess! You affect the ladies, eh? Oh, we 're not such strangers as you think." He spoke in a more imperious tone: it was almost threatening. "I think you must help me, Monsieur Paul," said he.
His familiarity, which was certainly no accident, pointed more precisely the vague menace of his demand.
But Paul was not too easily frightened.
"All right," said he, "but I must get something out of it, you know."
"On the day I get the papers—by whatever means—you shall receive ten thousand francs. And I will not interfere with your business. Come, my proposal is handsome, you must allow."
"Well, tell me what to do."
"You shall write a note, addressed to the Count, telling him you must see him on a matter which deeply touches his interest and his honour."
"How much do you know?" Paul broke in suspiciously.
"I knew nothing till last night; now I am beginning to know. But listen. The innkeeper is my friend; he will manage that this note shall be delivered—not to the Count, but to Dieppe; if any question arises, he 'll say you described the gentleman beyond mistake, and in the note you will refer to last night's interview. He won't suspect that I have undeceived you. Well then, in the note you will make a rendezvous with him. He will come, either for fun or because he thinks he can serve his friend—the Count or the Countess, whichever it may be. If I don't offend your susceptibilities, I should say it was the Countess. Oh, I am judging only by general probability."