“Perfectly. You express yourself with unmistakable clearness. So Monsieur Charles is to have the money!”
“And will make a worthy use of it. He may find more follow.”
“I comprehend,” said Léon, still smiling. “Under the circumstances, you are doubtless anxious to despatch your letter to Monsieur Charles. Can I post it for you?”
It was M. de Cadanet’s turn to laugh—gratingly.
“Permit me to prefer a safer messenger. My cheque is payable to bearer.”
“Then I have the honour to wish you good-day.”
“Go. And understand, once for all, that should you apply to me again, you will not be admitted.”
“Do not fear, monsieur. The impression I take with me is not so agreeable that I should wish to renew it.”
And with this last word M. de Beaudrillart found himself outside the room.
He went slowly down-stairs, the smile still lingering mechanically on his lips, but something like despair in his heart. So far as he could see, but one way presented itself out of his troubles, and this would only affect himself, and leave his mother, whom he loved, with added misery in her heart. No misfortune would touch her, he knew, so nearly as his death, and if he had the cowardice to be ready to slip out of his troubles by self-murder, he had not the cruelty to inflict such anguish upon her. Besides, another reflection, not so amiable, restrained him. M. de Cadanet had hinted at coming gifts for M. Charles, and the thought had flashed upon him with the force of intuition that it was not improbable, should the mortgages be foreclosed, for the count to get hold of Poissy and present it to M. Charles. Now, without knowing all the mischief that he had worked, Léon hated M. Charles. His hate was not virulent, but it was impulsive; and although he had no proof, he strongly suspected who had brought an exaggerated report of his follies to M. de Cadanet’s ears. He might have retaliated, but that he would never stoop to such a course, and he reflected with a laugh that, if Charles was convicted of gambling, he would be ready with the excuse that he had gone there to watch himself. But Charles at Poissy! Charles a successor of the De Beaudrillarts! Léon ground his teeth, and felt that he must remain alive while a hope of baffling such a disaster was left.