Monsieur Delamort

III

"Now, to business," said Delamort. "You may think, monsieur, that I am a rank impostor. I am not. I am a genuine spiritualist, as well as something of a hypnotist. Indeed, I have a reputation to maintain. Now, it occasionally happens that I come across a man so strongminded, of such determination and willpower that my art is defeated and baffled. Such a man, my dear M. Grosjean, are you. I confess it with regret, for it is never pleasant to find ourselves confronted by a stronger individuality, which will not bring itself under our control."

Grosjean, who was recovering from his fears, smiled, with the pleasure occasioned him by these elaborate compliments.

"While my failure, monsieur," Delamort continued, "makes you the gainer of a paltry three napoleons, it occasions me the loss of over six hundred francs. As you will readily perceive, there is no proportion in this. Besides, I am a poor man, M. Grosjean; and, in addition to the loss of all this money, there is the further loss of character and prestige, which will be nothing short of ruinous to me. You understand?"

Grosjean grinned until his yellow face was wrinkled into the semblance of a crumpled parchment.

"I understand, but I am afraid I cannot help you. It is the fortune of war." He endeavored to give his voice an inflection of polite regret, but the pleasure of gaining three napoleons was not so lightly to be suppressed by a man of Grosjean's grasping nature.

"Pardon," returned Delamort. "But you can help me, and by helping me you can help yourself. Now, if instead of three napoleons, your profit by my failure were to be six, would it not be worth your while to save my reputation?"

"What do you mean?" quoth Grosjean suspiciously.

"Just this. If you will acknowledge to your friends that you have seen your father's ghost, and consequently lost your wager, I will pay you nine napoleons--that is, the three you have staked and the six I am giving you in compensation."

Grosjean's eyes brightened with greed.

"It would be doing you a good service, would it not--saving your reputation?"

"Assuredly."

"Also, it would be making you a profit of the twenty-six napoleons staked by my friends, eh?"

"Why, yes. But not twenty-six, my friend. Seventeen napoleons will be my total profit after I have settled with you."

Grosjean reflected a moment; then a cunning smile spread on his face. "I admire your method of raising ghosts, M. Delamort," said he with jeering irony. He shook his head and laughed. "No, no, my friend. Such a service as you are asking of me is worth more than six napoleons. You are proposing a revolting course to me. I can't do it. I really can't."

"You are throwing away money, monsieur, by your refusal," Delamort reminded him. "Surely a gain of six napoleons is better than a gain of only three. And you are earning it without any trouble or inconvenience. How much better would you be if I did raise your father's ghost? It would only scare you to death. I beg that you will seriously consider my proposal."

"I can't be a party to such a swindle. I really can't--not for six napoleons, anyhow. If I practise this wretched deceit upon my trusting friends, I must have half your profit. That is to say, I must have thirteen napoleons."

"I'll give you ten."

"Thirteen or I'll walk out and denounce you for an impudent impostor. Make your choice."

Some one knocked at the door. His friends were becoming anxious.

"Are you all right, Grosjean?" inquired a voice, to which the old man returned an affirmative reply.

"Has he raised the spirit yet?"

"Not yet." answered Grosjean, while Delamort added: "But I hope to do so in a moment or two, if you will refrain from interrupting me. Have the goodness not to disturb us again." Then to Grosjean, in a whisper: "Now, monsieur," said he, "what is it to be? Will you accept ten napoleons?"

"Thirteen," was the laconic answer, delivered with finality.

"Very well, then. Thirteen be it, provided that you will follow out my instructions."

"What are they?"

"You are to scream two or three times, and then fall down and simulate a swoon as best you can, reviving only after I have admitted your friends."

"Parfaitement," said the old traitor, his greedy eyes shining with avarice. "Pay me the money now, so that my friends will have no suspicions."

Delamort produced his purse and carefully took thirteen napoleons from it, one by one. One by one he delivered them to his companion.

"See that they don't jingle," he admonished him; "for if any one were to hear it he would suspect."

Grosjean nodded that he understood, and pocketed each coin as he received it. When he had received the thirteenth he still put forth his hand, and upon being asked by Delamort what he wanted, he insolently replied that he wanted the return of his stake of three napoleons.

"That was included. It was to be thirteen altogether," the occultist protested. But Grosjean had not so understood it, and swore that he would not perform his part of the bargain until he received another sixty francs.

They wrangled for some moments, Delamort protesting that thus Grosjean was making more out of it than he was himself. In the end he was forced to give in and pay the further money demanded, which he did with the worst grace in the world.