"I understand that you received a million in cash at the time of the wedding," said I. "What has become of all that?"
He shrugged his shoulders. "Can you expect me to indulge an extravagant wife, who seeks to become a social queen, and still save anything out of a paltry million?"
"Oh, I see. This is a new phase of the matter that hasn't been revealed to me. It was she who spent the million?"
"After a fashion, yes," said he, without a spark of shame. "The chateau was in rather a dilapidated condition, and she insisted on its restoration. It was also necessary to spend a great deal of money in the effort to secure for herself a certain position in society. My own position was not sufficient for her. She wanted to improve upon it, I might say. We entertained a great deal, and lavishly. She was accustomed to gratifying every taste and whim that money could purchase. Naturally, it was not long before we were hard pressed for funds. I went to New York a year ago and put the matter clearly before her father. He met me with another proposition which rather disgusted me. I am a man who believes in fair dealing. If I have an obligation I meet it. Isn't that true, Mr. Schymansky?"
"It is," said the lawyer.
"Her father revoked his original plan and suggested an alternative. He proposed to put the million in trust for his granddaughter, our Rosemary,—a name, sir, that I abominate and which was given to her after my wife had sulked for weeks,—the interest to be paid to his daughter until the child reached the age of twenty-one. Of course, I could not accept such an arrangement. It—"
"Acting on my advice,—for I was present at the interview,—the Count emphatically declined to entertain—"
"Never mind, Schymansky," broke in the Count petulantly. "What is the use of going into all that?" He appeared to reflect for a moment. "Will you be good enough to leave the room for awhile, Mr. Schymansky? I think Mr. Smart and I can safely manage a friendly compact without your assistance. Eh, Mr. Smart?"
I couldn't feel sorry for Schymansky. He hadn't the backbone of an angleworm. If I were a lawyer and a client of mine were to speak to me as Pless spoke to him, I firmly believe I should have had at least a fair sprinkling of his blood upon my hands.
"I beg of you, Count, to observe caution and—"