"I shall have
nothing left," he began, piteously.
But with a disdainful gesture Madame d'Argeles interrupted him.
"Set your mind at rest," said she. "You will still be immensely
rich. All the estimates which have been made are far below the
mark. When I was a girl I often heard my father say that his
income amounted to more than eight hundred thousand francs a year.
My brother inherited the whole property, and I would be willing to
swear that he never spent more than half of his income."
Wilkie's nerves had never been subjected to so severe a shock. He
tottered and his brain whirled. "Oh! oh!" he stammered. This was
all he could say.
"Only I must warn you of a more than probable deception," pursued
Madame d'Argeles. "As my brother was firmly resolved to deprive
me even of my rightful portion of the estate, he concealed his
fortune in every possible way. It will undoubtedly require
considerable time and trouble to gain possession of the whole.
However I know a man, formerly the Count de Chalusse's
confidential agent, who might aid you in this task."
"And this man's name?"
"Is Isidore Fortunat. I saved his card for you. Here it is."
M. Wilkie took it up, placed it carefully in his pocket, and then
exclaimed: "That being the case, I consent to sign, but after this
you need not complain. Two millions at five per cent.
Pages:
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386