The doctor was not clever at figures; he made several vain attempts to
solve the problem, and at last gave it up in despair. "Forty and forty,"
muttered he, tapping the tips of his fingers, "are eighty, then forty--"

"Call it eight hundred thousand francs," broke in Mascarin. "Say I drew
the same amount as you did. We have spent ours, and Catenac has saved
his, and grown rich; hence my distrust. Our interests are no longer
identical. He certainly comes here every month, but it is only to claim
his share; he consents to take his share of the profits, but shirks the
risks. It is fully ten years since he brought in any business. I don't
trust him at all. He always declines to join in any scheme that we
propose, and sees danger in everything."

"He would not betray us, however."

Mascarin took a few moments for reflection. "I think," said he, "that
Catenac is afraid of us. He knows that the ruin of me would entail the
destruction of the other two. This is our only safeguard; but if he
dare not injure us openly, he is quite capable of working against us in
secret. Do you remember what he said the last time he was here? That we
ought to close our business and retire. How should _we_ live? for he is
rich and we are poor. What on earth are you doing, Hortebise?" he added,
for the physician, who had the reputation of being worth an enormous
amount, had taken out his purse, and was going over the contents.

"I have scarcely three hundred and twenty-seven francs!" answered he
with a laugh. "What is the state of your finances?"

Mascarin made a grimace. "I am not so well off as you; and besides," he