Raoul came to see his uncle, and found him radiant.
“Everything is going on swimmingly, my smart nephew,” said Clameran; “your receipts acted like a charm. Ah, you are a partner worth having. I congratulate you upon your success. Forty thousand francs in four months!”
“Yes,” said Raoul carelessly. “I got about that much from pawnbrokers.”
“Pests! Then you must have a nice little sum laid by.”
“That is my business, uncle, and not yours. Remember our agreement. I will tell you this much: Mme. Fauvel and Madeleine have turned everything they could into money; they have nothing left, and I have had enough of my role.”
“Your role is ended. I forbid you to hereafter ask for a single centime.”
“What are you about to do? What has happened?”
“The mine is loaded, nephew, and I am awaiting an opportunity to set fire to it.”
Louis de Clameran relied upon making his rival, Prosper Bertomy, furnish him this ardently desired opportunity.
He loved Madeleine too passionately to feel aught save the bitterest hate toward the man whom she had freely chosen, and who still possessed her heart.