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Updated: June 25, 2025
"The marquis is very busy this morning," said the servant to whom Pascal addressed himself at the gate. "I doubt if he can see you." But when Pascal handed him one of his visiting cards, bearing the name of Maumejan, with this addition in pencil: "Who calls as the representative of Baron Trigault," the valet's face changed as if by enchantment. "Oh!" said he, "that's quite a different matter.
When there are so many wheels within wheels, one of them is always sure to get out of order." "Nonsense!" "Besides, you have I don't know how many accomplices Maumejan, the doctor, Madame Leon, and Vantrasson, not counting myself. Will all these people perform their duties satisfactorily?" "Each of them is as much interested in my success as I am myself."
He had dressed himself in the oldest clothes he possessed; and this, with the change he had made by cutting off his hair and beard, had so altered his appearance that it was necessary to look at him several times, and most attentively, to recognize him. The visiting cards which he carried in his pocket bore the inscription: "P. Maumejan, Business Agent, Route de la Revolte."
He had almost reached it, not without suffering considerable injury, when it suddenly opened, and a young man clad in black, with a smooth shaven face, entered the shop, and sternly exclaimed: "Why! what's all this?" The sight of the newcomer seemed to stupefy Vantrasson. "Ah! it is you, Monsieur Maumejan?" he faltered, with a crestfallen air. "It's nothing; we were only in fun."
Had he not got in his pocket M. Wilkie's signature insuring him upward of half a million? Standing near one of the windows in the main reception-room, between the Marquis de Valorsay and M. Wilkie, the brilliant viscount was gayly chatting with them, when a footman, in a voice loud enough to interrupt all conversation, suddenly announced: "M. Maumejan!"
"But we have enemies Madame d'Argeles, Fortunat " "Madame d'Argeles is about to leave Paris. If Fortunat is troublesome I will purchase his silence; Maumejan has promised me money." But M. de Coralth had kept his strongest argument until the last. "And Pascal Ferailleur?" said he. "You have forgotten him." No; M. de Valorsay had not forgotten him.
Fortunately M. de Valorsay came to his relief, for as Pascal was about to open the same door by which he had entered, the marquis exclaimed: "Not that way! Pass out here this is the shortest way." And leading him through his bedroom the marquis conducted him to the staircase, where he even feigned to offer him his hand, saying: "A speedy return, dear M. Maumejan."
"What! monsieur, don't you recognize me?" rejoined Pascal, who in his agitation forgot that the baron had seen him only twice before. He forgot the absence of his beard, his almost ragged clothing, and all the precautions he had taken to render recognition impossible. "I have never met any person named Maumejan," said the baron. "Ah! monsieur, that's not my name.
Similar despondency attacked Pascal Ferailleur when he awoke for the first time in the abode where he had hidden himself under the name of Maumejan. A frightful slander had crushed him to the earth he could kill his slanderer, but afterward ? How was he to reach and stifle the slander itself?
He would have gone there before the appointed time if he had merely listened to the promptings of his impatience, so thoroughly was he persuaded that this second interview would be decisive. But prudence advised him not to expose himself to the danger of an encounter with Madame Leon and Dr. Jodon. "Well! Monsieur Maumejan," cried the marquis, as soon as Pascal made his appearance.
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