"Complexion has nothing to do with it."
"And you think he is in danger?"
"I do not give him a year to live; perhaps not six months."
The two men walked some distance, silent and serious.
"Yes, Captain," said the Doctor, breaking the pause, "we may look upon Poor Bouchereau as a dead man, even setting aside the risk he incurs from your good blade. Before twelve months are past, his wife may think about a second husband. She will be a charming little widow, and will not want for admirers."
Pelletier cast a sidelong look at his companion, but the Doctor's air of perfect simplicity dispelled the suspicion his last words had awakened.
"If Bouchereau died, his wife would be rich?" said the Captain, musingly, but in an interrogative tone.
"Peste!" replied Magnian, "you may say that. Not one hundred thousand, but two hundred thousand crowns, at the very least."
"You exaggerate!" cried the Captain, his eyes suddenly sparkling.
"Easy to calculate," said Magnian confidently—"Madame Bouchereau inherited a hundred thousand francs from her father, she will have a hundred and fifty thousand from her mother, and her husband will leave her three hundred and fifty thousand more: add that up."