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There was again a touch of condescension in Peyrolles's manner: "You are not so keen as you think, good Æsop. Mademoiselle de Nevers, recovered, restored to her mother's arms, the recognized heiress of so much wealth, might seem to be a very lucky young woman. But even lucky young women are not immortal." Æsop chuckled. "Oh, oh, oh!

The first business was to share the contents of Monsieur Peyrolles's bag, which Staupitz duly divided according to the original understanding, giving each man twenty-five pistoles, and keeping the remainder for himself. By this time the ink on the promissory note was dry, and Staupitz folded it up carefully and put it in his pocket.

Cocardasse had somehow or other managed to get between him and the door, and the other ruffians seemed to be entirely in sympathy with the Gascon's conduct, and to have no regard whatever for Peyrolles's dignity or feelings. With a smile that he intended to be amiable, Peyrolles sat down. "Well," he said, with an air of one that swallows sour wine, "what have you to say to me?"

Apparently satisfied, the shadow went on: "If the girl should die in your arms, no one will blame you, and your fifty pistoles will be a hundred. 'Tis but a quick nip of finger and thumb on an infant's neck. Do you understand?" "What I do not understand," retorted Lagardere, "is why you do not do the job yourself and save your money." It was now Peyrolles's turn to be annoyed.

Peyrolles turned to his followers. "Seek in all directions," he said, and the men with the swords and torches dispersed in twos down the adjacent alleys. The hunchback laid his hand on Peyrolles's shoulder. "I know where to find him." Peyrolles turned in astonishment. "You do?" "I am here!" the hunchback said, sternly.

The unpleasant expression on Monsieur Peyrolles's face whenever the name of Lagardere was mentioned now deepened sufficiently to make it quite plain that he cherished no such inclination.