The cost of the purchase was ridiculously insignificant. A bank-note for five hundred francs, for which Etienne Lousteau never clearly accounted to the share-holders, put Thuillier in possession of the name, property, furniture, and good-will of the newspaper, which he and la Peyrade at once busied themselves in reorganizing.
CHAPTER X. IN WHICH CERIZET PRACTISES THE HEALING ART AND
THE ART OF POISONING ON THE SAME DAY
While this regeneration was going on, Cerizet went one morning to see du Portail, with whom la Peyrade was now more than ever determined to hold no communication.
“Well,” said the little old man to the poor man’s banker, “what effect did the news we gave to the president of the bar produce on our man? Did the affair get wind at the Palais?”
“Phew!” said Cerizet, whose intercourse, no doubt pretty frequent, with du Portail had put him on a footing of some familiarity with the old man, “there’s no question of that now. The eel has wriggled out of our hands; neither softness nor violence has any effect upon that devil of a man. He has quarrelled with the bar, and is in better odor than ever with Thuillier. ‘Necessity,’ says Figaro, ‘obliterates distance.’ Thuillier needs him to push his candidacy in the quartier Saint-Jacques, so they kissed and made up.”
“And no doubt,” said du Portail, without much appearance of feeling, “the marriage is fixed for an early day?”
“Yes,” replied Cerizet, “but there’s another piece of work on hand. That crazy fellow has persuaded Thuillier to buy a newspaper, and he’ll make him sink forty thousand francs in it. Thuillier, once involved, will want to get his money back, and in my opinion they are bound together for the rest of their days.”
“What paper is it?”