Gobseck was one of the members of the commission appointed to
liquidate claims and assess repayments due by Hayti; his special
knowledge of old fortunes in San Domingo, and the planters and their
heirs and assigns to whom the indemnities were due, had led to his
nomination. Gobseck's peculiar genius had then devised an agency for
discounting the planters' claims on the government. The business was
carried on under the names of Werbrust and Gigonnet, with whom he
shared the spoil without disbursements, for his knowledge was accepted
instead of capital. The agency was a sort of distillery, in which
money was extracted from doubtful claims, and the claims of those who
knew no better, or had no confidence in the government. As a
liquidator, Gobseck could make terms with the large landed
proprietors; and these, either to gain a higher percentage of their
claims, or to ensure prompt settlements, would send him presents in
proportion to their means. In this way presents came to be a kind of
percentage upon sums too large to pass through his control, while the
agency bought up cheaply the small and dubious claims, or the claims
of those persons who preferred a little ready money to a deferred and
somewhat hazy repayment by the Republic. Gobseck was the insatiable
boa constrictor of the great business. Every morning he received his
tribute, eyeing it like a Nabob's prime minister, as he considers
whether he will sign a pardon. Gobseck would take anything, from the
present of game sent him by some poor devil or the pound's weight of
wax candles from devout folk, to the rich man's plate and the
speculator's gold snuff-box. Nobody knew what became of the presents
sent to the old money-lender. Everything went in, but nothing came
out.

"'On the word of an honest woman,' said the portress, an old
acquaintance of mine, 'I believe he swallows it all and is none the