The Peruvian attaché made a sign and pointed to Sergeant Mazeroux.
Perenna replied:

"Oh, pray don't mind M. Mazeroux! You can speak before him; he is the
soul of discretion. Besides, he knows all about the business."

The attaché was silent. Perenna made him sit down in front of him.

"Speak without beating about the bush, dear Señor Caceres. It's a subject
that calls for plain dealing; and I don't mind a blunt word or two. It
saves such a lot of time! Come on. You want money, I suppose? Or, rather,
more money. How much?"

The Peruvian had a final hesitation, gave a glance at Don Luis's
companion, and then, suddenly making up his mind, said in a dull voice:

"Fifty thousand francs!"

"Oh, by Jove, by Jove!" cried Don Luis. "You're greedy, you know! What do
you say, M. Mazeroux? Fifty thousand francs is a lot of money. Especially
as--Look here, my dear Caceres, let's go over the ground again.

"Three years ago I had the honour of making your acquaintance in Algeria,
when you were touring the country. At the same time, I understood the
sort of man you were; and I asked you if you could manage, in three
years, with my name of Perenna, to fix me up a Spanish-Peruvian identity,
furnished with unquestionable papers and respectable ancestors. You said,
'Yes,' We settled the price: twenty thousand francs. Last week, when the
Prefect of Police asked me for my papers, I came to see you and learned
that you had just been instructed to make inquiries into my antecedents.