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Oh! you need not smile. I shall throw myself at M. Fauvel's feet, and confess everything. He is noble-hearted and generous, and, knowing how I have suffered, will forgive me." "Do you think so?" said Clameran derisively. "You mean to say that he will be pitiless, and banish me from his roof. So be it; it will only be what I deserve.
Thus everything was discovered by my brother, who had no difficulty in obtaining the most positive proofs of the boy's parentage." Louis closely watched Mme. Fauvel's face to see the effect of his words. To his astonishment she betrayed not the slightest agitation or alarm; she was smiling as if entertained by the recital of his romance. "Well, what next?" she asked carelessly.
The sum of three hundred and fifty thousand francs certainly had been stolen from M. Andre Fauvel's bank, but not in the manner described. A clerk had also been arrested on suspicion, but no decisive proof had been found against him. This robbery of unusual importance remained, if not inexplicable, at least unexplained.
Nothing but the certainty of impending danger could reconcile them. The danger was revealed to them both at the Jandidier ball. Who was the mysterious mountebank that indulged in such transparent allusions to Mme. Fauvel's private troubles, and then said, with threatening significance to Louis: "I was the best friend of your brother Gaston?"
He looked upon it as a good sign, and his mind felt a slight relief. M. Patrigent turned toward the clerk, and said: "We will begin now, Sigault; pay attention." "What is your name?" he then asked, looking at Prosper. "Auguste Prosper Bertomy." "How old are you?" "I shall be thirty the 5th of next May." "What is your profession?" "I am that is, I was cashier in M. Andre Fauvel's bank."
I became acquainted with him yesterday, and now I am his best friend. If I wish to enter M. Fauvel's service in Antonin's place, I can rely upon M. Evariste's good word." "What, you be an office messenger? you?" "Of course I would. How else am I to get an opportunity of studying my characters, if I am not on the spot to watch them all the time?" "Then the valet gave you no news?"
When M. Fauvel had left the room, Sigault indulged in a remark. "This seems to be a very cloudy case," he said; "if the cashier is shrewd and firm, it will be difficult to convict him." "Perhaps it will," said the judge, "but let us hear the other witnesses before deciding." The person who answered to the call for number four was Lucien, M. Fauvel's eldest son.
The banker's offer was soon accepted. That same week Raoul went to his uncle's bank, and boldly borrowed ten thousand francs. When Mme. Fauvel heard of this piece of audacity, she wrung her hands in despair. "What can he want with so much money?" she moaned to herself: "what wicked extravagance is it for?" For some time Clameran had kept away from Mme. Fauvel's house.
"Naturally you thought that this scratch was made by the person who took the money. Let us see if you were right. I have here a little iron box, painted with green varnish like M. Fauvel's safe; here it is. Take a key, and try to scratch it." "The deuce take it!" he said after several attempts, "this paint is awfully hard to move!"
He has too noble a heart to do anything really wrong." "He has suffered so much!" was Mme. Fauvel's constant excuse for Raoul. This was her invariable reply to M. de Clameran's complaints of his nephew's conduct. And, having once commenced, he was now constant in his accusations against Raoul.
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