“Where do you find the money?” said Carlos point-blank, with a sagacious glance.

“Monsieur, I have a friend——­”

“Get along,” said Carlos; “go and tell that story to an examining magistrate!”

This audacious stroke on Carlos’ part was the outcome of one of those calculations, so simple that none but a man of his temper would have thought it out.

At a very early hour he had sent Lucien to Madame de Serizy’s.  Lucien had begged the Count’s private secretary—­as from the Count—­to go and obtain from the Prefet of Police full particulars concerning the agent employed by the Baron de Nucingen.  The secretary came back provided with a note concerning Peyrade, a copy of the summary noted on the back of his record:—­

  “In the police force since 1778, having come to Paris from Avignon
  two years previously.

  “Without money or character; possessed of certain State secrets.

  “Lives in the Rue des Moineaux under the name of Canquoelle, the
  name of a little estate where his family resides in the department
  of Vaucluse; very respectable people.

  “Was lately inquired for by a grand-nephew named Theodore de la
  Peyrade. (See the report of an agent, No. 37 of the Documents.)”

“He must be the man to whom Contenson is playing the mulatto servant!” cried Carlos, when Lucien returned with other information besides this note.

Within three hours this man, with the energy of a Commander-in-Chief, had found, by Paccard’s help, an innocent accomplice capable of playing the part of a gendarme in disguise, and had got himself up as a peace-officer.  Three times in the coach he had thought of killing Peyrade, but he had made it a rule never to commit a murder with his own hand; he promised himself that he would get rid of Peyrade all in good time by pointing him out as a millionaire to some released convicts about the town.

Peyrade and his Mentor, as they went in, heard Contenson’s voice arguing with Madame du Val-Noble’s maid.  Peyrade signed to Carlos to remain in the outer room, with a look meant to convey:  “Thus you can assure yourself of my sincerity.”

“Madame agrees to everything,” said Adele.  “Madame is at this moment calling on a friend, Madame de Champy, who has some rooms in the Rue Taitbout on her hands for a year, full of furniture, which she will let her have, no doubt.  Madame can receive Mr. Johnson more suitably there, for the furniture is still very decent, and monsieur might buy it for madame by coming to an agreement with Madame de Champy.”

“Very good, my girl.  If this is not a job of fleecing, it is a bit of the wool,” said the mulatto to the astonished woman.  “However, we will go shares——­”

“That is your darkey all over!” cried Mademoiselle Adele.  “If your nabob is a nabob, he can very well afford to give madame the furniture.  The lease ends in April 1830; your nabob may renew it if he likes.”