The Clerk of the Court sighed. He realized the significance of what his
visitor was saying. Ever Since Zoe had gone, Jean Jacques had been for
ever on the move, for ever making hay on which the sun did not shine.
Jean Jacques' face these days was lined and changeful. It looked
unstable and tired--as though disturbing forces were working up to the
surface out of control. The brown eyes, too, were far more restless than
they had ever been since the Antoine was wrecked, and their owner
returned with Carmen to the Manor Cartier. But the new restlessness of
the eyes was different from the old. That was a mobility impelled by an
active, inquisitive soul, trying to observe what was going on in the
world, and to make sure that its possessor was being seen by the world.
This activity was that of a mind essentially concerned to find how many
ways it could see for escape from a maze of things; while his vanity was
taking new forms. It was always anxious to discover if the world was
trying to know how he was taking the blows of fate and fortune. He had
been determined that, whatever came, it should not see him paralysed or
broken.

As M. Fille only nodded his head in sorrowful assent, the Big Financier
became more explicit. He was determined to lose nothing by Jean Jacques,
and he was prepared to take instant action when it was required; but he
was also interested in the man who might have done really powerful things
in the world, had he gone about them in the right way.

"M. Barbille has had some lawsuits this year, is it not so?" he asked.

"Two of importance, monsieur, and one is not yet decided," answered M.
Fille.