“At any rate, take Garangeot as a stop-gap!” pleaded Heloise. “He has the whole press on his side—”
Just at that moment the cashier came in with a note for a thousand francs in his hand.
“Give it to madame here,” said Gaudissart. “Good-day, my good woman; take good care of the dear man, and tell him that I am coming to see him to-morrow, or sometime—as soon as I can, in short.”
“A drowning man,” said Heloise.
“Ah, sir, hearts like yours are only found in a theatre. May God bless you!”
“To what account shall I post this item?” asked the cashier.
“I will countersign the order. Post it to the bonus account.”
Before La Cibot went out, she made Mlle. Brisetout a fine courtesy, and heard Gaudissart remark to his mistress:
“Can Garangeot do the dance-music for the Mohicans in twelve days? If he helps me out of my predicament, he shall have Pons’ place.”
La Cibot had cut off the incomes of the two friends, she had left them without means of subsistence if Pons should chance to recover, and was better rewarded for all this mischief than for any good that she had done. In a few days’ time her treacherous trick would bring about the desired result—Elie Magus would have his coveted pictures. But if this first spoliation was to be effected, La Cibot must throw dust in Fraisier’s eyes, and lull the suspicions of that terrible fellow-conspirator of her own seeking; and Elie Magus and Remonencq must be bound over to secrecy.