Fille hastened to the other room. After a moment he
came back, a familiar voice following him.
"It is Monsieur Barbille, monsieur," M. Fille said quietly, but with
apprehensive eyes.
"Well--he wants to see me?" asked M. Mornay. "No, no, monsieur.
It would be better if he did not see you. He is in some agitation."
"Fille! Maitre Fille--be quick now," called Jean Jacques' voice from the
other room.
"What did I say, monsieur?" asked the Big Financier. "The mind that's
received a blow must be moving--moving; the man with the many irons must
be flying from bellows to bellows!"
"Come, come, there's no time to lose," came Jean Jacques' voice again,
and the handle of the door of their room turned.
M. Fille's hand caught the handle. "Excuse me, Monsieur Barbille,
--a minute please," he persisted almost querulously. "Be good enough to
keep your manners . . . monsieur!" he added to the Financier, "if you
do not wish to speak with him, there is a door"--he pointed--"which will
let you into the side-street."
"What is his trouble?" asked M. Mornay.
M. Fille hesitated, then said reflectively: "He has lost his case in the
Appeal Court, monsieur; also, his cousin, Auguste Charron, who has been
working the Latouche farm, has flitted, leaving--"
"Leaving Jean Jacques to pay unexpected debts?"
"So, monsieur.
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