to the Comte and to Crystal.

In the present state of M. le Comte d'Artois' difficulties the money
would have been thrice welcome, and St. Genis felt the load of failure
weighing thrice as heavily on his soul, and dreaded the
reproaches--mute or outspoken--which he knew awaited him. If only he
could have thought of something! something plausible and not too
inglorious! There was, of course, the possibility that he had failed to
come upon the track of the thieves at all--but then he had no business
to come back so soon--and he didn't want to come back, only that there
was always the likelihood of the Englishman speaking of what had
occurred--not necessarily with evil intent . . . but . . . some words of
his: "If within a week I hear that the King of France has not received
this money, I will proclaim you a liar and a thief!" rang unpleasantly
in St. Genis' ears.

The young man's mind, I repeat, was at this point still a blank as to
what explanation he would give to the Comte de Cambray of his own
miserable failure.

He was returning--after an ardent promise to overtake the thief and to
force him to give up the money--without apparently having made any
effort in that direction--or having made the effort, failing signally
and ignominiously--a foolish and unheroic position in either case.

To tell the whole unvarnished truth, his interview with Clyffurde and
his thoughtlessness in wandering along the road all alone, laden with
twenty-five million francs, not waiting for the arrival of M. le Comte
d'Artois' patrol, was unthinkable.

Then what? St. Genis, determined not to tell the truth, found it a
difficult task to concoct a story that would be plausible and at the
same time redound to his credit. His disappointment was so bitter now,
his hopes of winning Crystal and glory had been so bright, that he found
it quite impossible to go back to the hard facts of life--to his own
poverty and the unattainableness of Crystal de Cambray--without making a
great effort to win back what Victor de Marmont had just wrested from
him.

Through the whirl of his thoughts, too, there was a vague sense of
resentment against Clyffurde--coupled with an equally vague sense of
fear. He, Maurice, might easily keep silent over the transaction of last
night, but Clyffurde might not feel inclined to do so. He would want to
know sooner or later what had become of the money . . . had he not
uttered a threat which made Maurice's cheeks even now fl