"I know of something that will set you straight in a moment," answered
Castanier; "but first you would have to----"

"Do what?"

"Sell your share of paradise. It is a matter of business like anything
else, isn't it? We all hold shares in the great Speculation of
Eternity."

"I tell you this," said Claparon angrily, "that I am just the man to
lend you a slap in the face. When a man is in trouble, it is no time
to pay silly jokes on him."

"I am talking seriously," said Castanier, and he drew a bundle of
notes from his pocket.

"In the first place," said Claparon, "I am not going to sell my soul
to the Devil for a trifle. I want five hundred thousand francs before
I strike----"

"Who talks of stinting you?" asked Castanier, cutting him short. "You
shall have more gold than you could stow in the cellars of the Bank of
France."

He held out a handful of notes. That decided Claparon.

"Done," he cried; "but how is the bargain to be make?"

"Let us go over yonder, no one is standing there," said Castanier,
pointing to a corner of the court.