“No,” said Mme. de Beaudrillart, shivering. “Do not. You mean well, I know, but you might make matters worse by interfering. The fewer who are mixed up in it the better.”
“Maybe, madame; though that would not hinder me if only I had a lawyer’s brains to ferret out things. But that’s not my way. Give me a straight bit of work that requires no talking, and I’m your man; but as for hunting up and down in by-ways and back-stairs—well, if I attempted it, there would be blunders. There must be lots of the sort in Paris, though.”
“If it comes to that!”
M. Bourget stood regarding her.
“What does Monsieur Léon say?” he demanded, abruptly.
“He has tried to see this Lemaire, but he refuses to communicate except through a lawyer. It looks as if he could not face him.”
“Impossible to trust to that, madame,” said M. Bourget, with gloom. “The worst liars I ever met looked me straight in the face when they lied. Is Baron Léon going to take action himself!”
“He speaks of having a case for libel. Apparently, Monsieur Lemaire merely reiterates his demand without offering proof.”
“He is keeping his proof,” interjected the ex-builder.
“And Léon thinks that when he finds the money is not forthcoming, he will revenge himself by talking, unless he is threatened with an action.”