"Be good enough to pardon me—you have no honour at all, sir.'
"How? what?" gasped Populus.
"None whatever. You are a rascal; but as long as I can make you behave yourself you shall remain intendant. You misrepresent my rent-rolls."
"Not at all——"
"Listen to me. You bargain away my dues with my censitaires."
"Nev——"
"You permit my butlers to drink out of my wine cellars. I warrant you have the pick of them at your own table."
The Attorney did not know whether he was standing on his head or his heels, for the hit was correct.
"Finally," Germain went on deliberately, "you 'hold the keys of heaven and earth in Grelot,' and snap your fingers at 'this new young fool of a Seigneur who is away all the time at Versailles.'"
Master Populus seemed powerless to move or speak as he stood fiery-faced in the middle of the floor, looking despairingly at Germain, who was seated, very coolly glancing him over.