He climbed on top. As he turned into the Boulevard St. Germain M. Raindal caught sight of him; he was still waving his supple gold-headed stick in a friendly gesture.
“Hello! Good evening, my dear friend,” said Schleifmann, when Cyprien settled down at the table next to his own.... “Have you seen the young person?”
“No, my dear friend ... but I saw one of your enemies.”
He related the inexplicable flight of Mme. Chambannes, his walk with the marquis and the talk about gold mines and asked him, when he had finished: “Well, my dear Schleifmann, what do you say?”
“About what?”
“Why, this story about the mines, of course!...”
Schleifman little eyes shone fiercely and he passed his hand through his curly hair.
“I say that it is another dirty deal by means of which the Jews of the Bourse will again take in a large amount of money for themselves and raise up more hatred against those of their own race.... That is all I have to say about your mines!”
Raindal, the younger, repressed an impatient gesture.
“Sapristi, Schleifmann! Please try to understand me.... I am not asking you about the Jews but about myself.... Tell me, yes or no, do you think that I should take a risk?”