"Alas!" she said. "I have nothing more to do here."

"She is cautious," thought the lawyer, as he parted from her. "However,
she is warned; and I hope she will get safely off."

* * * * *

During this last week in September, when the weather was as warm as in
summer, the bishop gave a dinner to the authorities of the place. Among
the guests were the _procureur-du-roi_ and the attorney-general. Some
lively discussions prolonged the party till a late hour. The company
played whist and backgammon, a favorite game with the clergy. Toward
eleven o'clock the _procureur-du-roi_ walked out upon the upper terrace.
From the spot where he stood he saw a light on that island to which, on
a certain evening, the attention of the bishop and the Abbe Gabriel had
been drawn,--Veronique's "Ile de France,"--and the gleam recalled to
the _procureur's_ mind the unexplained mysteries of the Tascheron crime.
Then, reflecting that there could be no legitimate reason for a fire on
that lonely island in the river at that time of night, an idea, which
had already struck the bishop and the secretary, darted into his mind
with the suddenness and brilliancy of the flame itself which was shining
in the distance.

"We have all been fools!" he cried; "but this will give us the
accomplices."

He returned to the salon, sought out Monsieur de Grandville, said a
few words in his ear, after which they both took leave. But the Abbe de
Rastignac accompanied them politely to the door; he watched them as they
departed, saw them go to the terrace, noticed the fire on the island,
and thought to himself, "She is lost!"

The emissaries of the law got there too late. Denise and Louis, whom
Jean had taught to dive, were actually on the bank of the river at a
spot named to them by Jean, but Louis Tascheron had already dived four
times, bringing up each time a bundle containing twenty thousand francs'
worth of gold. The first sum was wrapped in a foulard handkerchief
knotted by the four corners. This handkerchief, from which the water
was instantly wrung, was thrown into a great fire of drift wood already
lighted. Denise did not leave the fire until she saw every particle of
the handkerchief consumed. The second sum was wrapped in a shawl, the
third in a cambric handkerchief; these wrappings were instantly burned
like the foulard.

Just as Denise was throwing the wrapping of the fourth and last package
into the fire the gendarmes,