ironically, and said:

"Shall I have to wait long?"

"Long enough for me to send to the bank."

Then turning his back on the iron-founder, M. Fauvel said to his
cashier:

"Write and send as quickly as possible to the bank an order for three
hundred thousand francs. Let the messenger take a carriage."

Prosper remained motionless.

"Do you hear me?" said the banker angrily.

The cashier trembled; he seemed as if trying to shake off a terrible
nightmare.

"It is useless to send," he said in a measured tone; "we owe this
gentleman three hundred thousand francs, and we have less than one
hundred thousand in the bank."

M. de Clameran evidently expected this answer, for he muttered:

"Naturally."

Although he pronounced this word, his voice, his manner, his face
clearly said:

"This comedy is well acted; but nevertheless it is a comedy, and I don't
intend to be duped by it."

Alas! After Prosper's answer, and the iron-founder's coarsely expressed
opinion, the clerks knew not what to think.

The fact was, that Paris had just been startled by several financial
crashes. The thirst for speculation caused the oldest and most reliable
houses to totter. Men of the most unimpeachable honor had to sacrifice
their pride, and go from door to door imploring aid.

Credit, that rare bird of security and peace, rested with none, but
stood with upraised wings, ready to fly off at the first rumor of
suspicion.

Therefore this idea of a comedy arranged beforehand between the banker
and his cashier might readily occur to the minds of people who, if not
suspicious, were at least aware of all the expedients resorted to
by speculators in order to gain time, which with them often meant
salvation.

M. Fauvel had had too much experience not to instantly divine the
impression produced by Prosper's answer; he read the most mortifying
doubt on the faces around him.

"Oh! don't be alarmed, monsieur," said he to M. de Clameran, "this house
has other resources. Be kind enough to await my return."

He left the room, went up the narrow steps leading to his study, and
in a few minutes returned, holding in his hand a letter and a bundle of
securities.

"Here, quick, Couturier!" he said to one of his clerks, "take my
carriage, which is waiting at the door, and go with monsieur to M. de
Rothschild's. Hand him this letter and these securities; in exchange,
you will receive three hundred thousand francs, which you will hand to
this g