“He is not such a fool as to give them, he sells them, old man,” said Mitral, proudly. “He wants La Billardiere’s place, and in order to get it, we must seize—”
“Seize! You’ll never be anything but a sheriff’s officer,” put in Metivier, striking Mitral amicably on the shoulder; “I like that, I do!”
“Seize Monsieur Clement des Lupeaulx in our clutches,” continued Mitral; “Elisabeth has discovered how to do it, and he is—”
“Elisabeth”; cried Gigonnet, interrupting again; “dear little creature! she takes after her grandfather, my poor brother! he never had his equal! Ah, you should have seen him buying up old furniture; what tact! what shrewdness! What does Elisabeth want?”
“Hey! hey!” cried Mitral, “you’ve got back your bowels of compassion, papa Gigonnet! That phenomenon has a cause.”
“Always a child,” said Gobseck to Gigonnet, “you are too quick on the trigger.”
“Come, Gobseck and Gigonnet, listen to me; you want to keep well with des Lupeaulx, don’t you? You’ve not forgotten how you plucked him in that affair about the king’s debts, and you are afraid he’ll ask you to return some of his feathers,” said Mitral.
“Shall we tell him the whole thing?” asked Gobseck, whispering to Gigonnet.
“Mitral is one of us; he wouldn’t play a shabby trick on his former customers,” replied Gigonnet. “You see, Mitral,” he went on, speaking to the ex-sheriff in a low voice, “we three have just bought up all those debts, the payment of which depends on the decision of the liquidation committee.”
“How much will you lose?” asked Mitral.