It was not until afterwards, on reading the
newspapers, that the light finally dawned in my stupid brain.
Whilst I was posing as his "saviour," as the gentleman who had
risked his life to rescue Mon. Imbert from the clutches of an
assassin, they were passing me off as Brawford. Wasn't that
splendid? That eccentric individual who had a room on the second
floor, that barbarian that was exhibited only at a distance, was
Brawford, and Brawford was I! Thanks to me, and to the confidence
that I inspired under the name of Brawford, they were enabled to
borrow money from the bankers and other money-lenders. Ha! what an
experience for a novice! And I swear to you that I shall profit by
the lesson!"
He stopped, seized my arm, and said to me, in a tone of
exasperation:
"My dear fellow, at this very moment, Gervaise Imbert owes me
fifteen hundred francs."
I could not refrain from laughter, his rage was so grotesque. He
was making a mountain out of a molehill. In a moment, he laughed
himself, and said:
"Yes, my boy, fifteen hundred francs. You must know that I had not
received one sou of my promised salary, and, more than that, she
had borrowed from me the sum of fifteen hundred francs.
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