Baudoin rose from his seat.
“Very good. I will follow your advice. If you have anything to tell me, send to Messieurs Baradier and Graff.”
“The bankers of the Rue de Provènce?”
“Yes.”
“Strange! My principal has just gone to see them, on leaving the Ministry. I heard it from the coachman. Good! Everything will turn out for the best, when the right moment comes. Au revoir!”
The two men shook hands, and Baudoin returned home.
Marcel, summoned by wire, had just returned from Ars. He was closeted with his father and uncle. Walking to and fro about the room, he gave brief replies to the questions asked him. Tall and slender, of fair complexion, with long moustache, and blue eyes, he offered a perfect pattern of the Lorraine type, in its full purity and strength. He was a very fine-looking young fellow, and his Uncle Graff watched him with a glow of pride and satisfaction.
“Well, then, what did Trémont tell you, the last time you saw him?”
“From a scientific point of view, we spoke of nothing but my investigations on the subject of aniline.”
“Nothing concerning his powders?”