His eyes fell
before M. Lecoq's steady gaze, and he blushed for this shameful yet
human hope that he had betrayed.
"You know all, now," resumed he, in a calmer tone; "consent to aid
me, won't you? Ah, if you only would, I should not think I had
repaid you were I to give you half my fortune--and I am rich--"
M. Lecoq stopped him with a haughty gesture.
"Enough, Monsieur Plantat," said he, in a bitter tone, "I can do a
service to a person whom I esteem, love and pity with all my soul;
but I cannot sell such a service."
"Believe that I did not wish--"
"Yes, yes, you wished to pay me. Oh, don't excuse yourself, don't
deny it. There are professions, I know, in which manhood and
integrity seem to count for nothing. Why offer me money? What
reason have you for judging me so mean as to sell my favors? You
are like the rest, who can't fancy what a man in my position is.
If I wanted to be rich--richer than you--I could be so in a
fortnight. Don't you see that I hold in my hands the honor and
lives of fifty people? Do you think I tell all I know? I have
here," added he, tapping his forehead, "twenty secrets that I could
sell to-morrow, if I would, for a plump hundred thousand apiece.
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