determined to send for him as soon as the interview was over, while all his nerves were vibrating with terrible emotions: he would tell the truth, to relieve his troubled, despairing mind.
His surprise was great to see the cashier’s bearing; resolute without obstinacy, firm and assured without defiance.
“Well,” he said, “have you reflected?”
“Not being guilty, monsieur, I had nothing to reflect upon.”
“Ah, I see the prison has not been a good counsellor; you forget that sincerity and repentance are the first things necessary to obtain the indulgence of the law.”
“I crave no indulgence, monsieur.”
M. Patrigent looked vexed, and said:
“What would you say if I told you what had become of the three hundred and fifty thousand francs?”
Prosper shook his head sadly.
“If it were known, monsieur, I would not be here, but at liberty.”
This device had often been used by the judge, and generally succeeded; but, with a man so thoroughly master of himself, there was small chance of success. It had been used at a venture, and failed.
“Then you persist in accusing M. Fauvel?”
“Him, or someone else.”
“Excuse me: no one else, since he alone knew the word. Had he any interest in robbing himself?”
“I can think of none.”
“Well, now I will tell you what interest you had in robbing him.”
M. Patrigent spoke as a man who was convinced of the facts he was about to state; but his assurance was all assumed.
He had relied upon crushing, at a blow, a despairing wretched man, and was nonplussed by seeing him appear as determined upon resistance.
“Will you be good enough to tell me,” he said, in a vexed tone, “how much you have spent during the last year?”
Prosper did not find it necessary to stop to reflect and calculate.
“Yes, monsieur,” he answered, unhesitatingly: “circumstances made it necessary for me to preserve the greatest order in my wild career; I spent about fifty thousand francs.”
“Where did you obtain them?”
“In the first place, twelve thousand francs were left to me by my mother. I received from M. Fauvel fourteen thousand francs, as my salary, and share of the profits. By speculating in stocks, I gained eight thousand francs. The rest I borrowed, and intend repaying out of the fifteen thousand francs which I have deposited in M. Fauvel’s bank.”
The account was clear, exact, and could be easily proved; it must be a true one.
“Who lent you the money?”
“M. Raoul de Lagors.”
This witness had left Paris the day of the robbery, and could not be found; so, for the time being, M. Patrigent was compelled to rely upon Prosper’s word.
“Well,” he said, “I will not press this point; but tell me why, in spite of the formal order of M. Fauvel, you drew the money from the Bank of France the night before, instead of waiting till the morning of the payment?”
“Because M. de Clameran had informed me that it would be agreeable, necessary even, for him to have his money early in the morning. He will testify to that fact, if you summon him; and I knew that I should reach my office late.”
“Then M. de Clameran is a friend of yours?”
“By no means. I have always felt repelled by him; but he is the intimate friend of M. Lagors.”
While Sigault was writing down these answers, M. Patrigent was racking his brain to imagine what could have occurred between M. Bertomy and his son, to cause this transformation in Prosper.
“One more thing,” said the judge: “how did you spend the evening, the night before the crime?”
“When I left my office, at five o’clock, I took the St.-Germain train, and went to Vesinet, M. de Lagors’s country seat, to carry him fifteen hundred francs which he had asked for; and, finding him not at home, I left it with his servant.”
“Did he tell you that M. de Lagors was going away?”
“No, monsieur. I did not know that he had left Paris.”
“Where did you go when you left Vesinet?”
“I returned to Paris, and dined at a restaurant with a friend.”
“And then?”
Prosper hesitated.
“You are silent,” said M. Patrigent; “then I shall tell you how you employed your time. You returned to your rooms in the Rue Chaptal, dressed yourself, and attended a soiree given by one of those women who style themselves dramatic artistes, and who are a disgrace to the stage; who receive a hundred crowns a year, and yet keep their carriages, at Mlle. Wilson’s.”
“You are right, monsieur.”
“There is heavy playing at Wilson’s?”
“Sometimes.”
“You are in the habit of visiting places of this sort. Were you not connected in some way with a scandalous adventure which took place at the house of a woman named Crescenzi?”
“I was summoned to testify, having witnessed a theft.”
“Gambling generally leads to stealing. And did you not play baccarat at Wilson’s, and lose eighteen hundred francs?”
“Excuse me, monsieur, only eleven hundred.”
“Very well. In the morning you paid a note of a thousand francs.”
“Yes, monsieur.”
“Moreover, there remained in your desk five hundred francs, and you had four hundred in your purse when you were arrested. So that altogether, in twenty-four hours, four thousand five hundred francs—”
Prosper was not discountenanced, but stupefied.
Not being aware of the powerful means of investigation possessed by the law, he wondered how in so short a time the judge could have obtained such accurate information.
“Your statement is correct, monsieur,” he said finally.
“Where did all this money come from? The evening before you had so little that you were obliged to defer the payment of a small bill.”
“The day to which you allude, I sold through an agent some bonds I had, about three thousand francs; besides, I took from the safe two thousand francs in advance on my salary.”
The
