" No, Monsieur Xavier."

"Why, yes . . . why, yes . . . Anthime Fumeau? "

' ' I assure you that I do not. ' '

"A fat fellow, very young, very red-faced, ultra-stylish, the finest teams in Paris. Fumeau ... an income of three millions. Tartlet the Kid ? Why, yes, you know him. ' '

' ' But I tell you that I do not know him. ' '

" You astonish me ! Why, everybody knows him. Don't you know the Fumeau biscuit? The young fellow who had a judicial adviser appointed for him two months ago? Don't you remember? "

" Not at all, I swear to you. Monsieur Xavier."

' ' Never mind, little turkey. Well, I played a good one on Fumeau last year, — a very good one. Guess what ? You do not guess ? ' '

" How do you expect me to guess, since I do not know him? "

" Well, it was this, my little baby. I intro- duced Fumeau to my mother. Upon my word ! What do you think of that for a discovery? And the funniest part of it is that in two months mamma succeeded in blackmailing Fumeau to the tune of three hundred thousand bones. What a godsend that, for papa's works! Oh! they know a thing or two; they are up to snuff! But for that, the house would have gone up. We were over head and ears in debt. The priests themselves were