The reading was done in the midst of perfect stillness.

“You will have six hundred francs a year, and with that you will go to Poitiers and study law,” said the grandfather, when the notary had finished.  “I had a fine life in prospect for you; but now, you must earn your living as a lawyer.  Ah! my young rascals, you have deceived me for six years; you now know it has taken me but one hour to get even with you:  I have seven-leagued boots.”

Just as old Monsieur Heron was preparing to leave with the signed papers, Gritte announced Colonel Bridau.  Madame Hochon left the room, taking her grandsons with her, that she might, as old Hochon said, confess them privately and find out what effect this scene had produced upon them.

Philippe and the old man stood in the embrasure of a window and spoke in low tones.

“I have been reflecting on the state of your affairs over there,” said Monsieur Hochon pointing to the Rouget house.  “I have just had a talk with Monsieur Heron.  The security for the fifty thousand francs a year from the property in the Funds cannot be sold unless by the owner himself or some one with a power of attorney from him.  Now, since your arrival here, your uncle has not signed any such power before any notary; and, as he has not left Issoudun, he can’t have signed one elsewhere.  If he attempts to give a power of attorney here, we shall know it instantly; if he goes away to give one, we shall also know it, for it will have to be registered, and that excellent Heron has means of finding it out.  Therefore, if Rouget leaves Issoudun, have him followed, learn where he goes, and we will find a way to discover what he does.”

“The power of attorney has not been given,” said Philippe; “they are trying to get it; but—­they—­will—­not—­suc—­ceed—­” added the vagabond, whose eye just then caught sight of his uncle on the steps of the opposite house:  he pointed him out to Monsieur Hochon, and related succinctly the particulars, at once so petty and so important, of his visit.

“Maxence is afraid of me, but he can’t evade me.  Mignonnet says that all the officers of the old army who are in Issoudun give a yearly banquet on the anniversary of the Emperor’s coronation; so Maxence Gilet and I are sure to meet in a few days.”

“If he gets a power of attorney by the morning of the first of December,” said Hochon, “he might take the mail-post for Paris, and give up the banquet.”

“Very good.  The first thing is, then, to get possession of my uncle; I’ve an eye that cows a fool,” said Philippe, giving Monsieur Hochon an atrocious glance that made the old man tremble.

“If they let him walk with you, Maxence must believe he has found some means to win the game,” remarked the old miser.

“Oh!  Fario is on the watch,” said Philippe, “and he is not alone.  That Spaniard has discovered one of my old soldiers in the neighborhood of Vatan, a man I once did some service to.  Without any one’s suspecting it, Benjamin Bourdet is under Fario’s orders, who has lent him a horse to get about with.”