"Catch me negotiating bills for Claparon & Co., my boy. The bank
collector went round to return their acceptances to them this
morning," said a fat banker in his outspoken way. "If you have any of
their paper, look out."
Claparon was in the building, in deep consultation with a man well
known for the ruinous rate at which he lent money. Castanier went
forthwith in search of the said Claparon, a merchant who had a
reputation for taking heavy risks that meant wealth or utter ruin. The
money-lender walked away as Castanier came up. A gesture betrayed the
speculator's despair.
"Well, Claparon, the Bank wants a hundred thousand francs of you, and
it is four o'clock; the thing is known, and it is too late to arrange
your little failure comfortably," said Castanier.
"Sir!"
"Speak lower," the cashier went on. "How if I were to propose a piece
of business that would bring you in as much money as you require?"
"It would not discharge my liabilities; every business that I ever
heard of wants a little time to simmer in."
"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.
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