ch other with mortal
hatred.

M. Verduret curiously watched these two enemies, with the indifference
and coolness of a philosopher, who, in the most violent outbursts of
human passion, merely sees subjects for meditation and study.

Finally, the silence becoming more and more threatening, he decided to
break it by speaking to the banker:

"I suppose you know, monsieur, that my young relative has just been
released from prison."

"Yes," replied M. Fauvel, making an effort to control himself, "yes, for
want of sufficient proof."

"Exactly so, monsieur, and this want of proof, as stated in the decision
of 'Not proven,' ruins the prospects of my relative, and compels him to
leave here at once for America."

M. Fauvel's features relaxed as if he had been relieved of some fearful
agony.

"Ah, he is going away," he said, "he is going abroad."

There was no mistaking the resentful, almost insulting intonation of the
words, "going away!"

M. Verduret took no notice of M. Fauvel's manner.

"It appears to me," he continued, in an easy tone, "that Prosper's
determination is a wise one. I merely wished him, before leaving Paris,
to come and pay his respects to his former chief."

The banker smiled bitterly.

"M. Bertomy might have spared us both this painful meeting. I have
nothing to say to him, and of course he can have nothing to tell me."

This was a formal dismissal; and M. Verduret, understanding it thus,
bowed to M. Fauvel, and left the room, accompanied by Prosper, who had
not opened his lips.

They had reached the street before Prosper recovered the use of his
tongue.

"I hope you are satisfied, monsieur," he said, in a gloomy tone; "you
exacted this painful step, and I could only acquiesce. Have I gained
anything by adding this humiliation to the others which I have
suffered?"

"You have not, but I have," replied M. Verduret. "I could find no way of
gaining access to M. Fauvel, save through you; and now I have found out
what I wanted to know. I am convinced that M. Fauvel had nothing to do
with the robbery."

"Oh, monsieur!" objected Prosper, "innocence can be feigned."

"Certainly, but not to this extent. And this is not all. I wished to
find out if M. Fauvel would be accessible to certain suspicions. I am
now confident that he is."

Prosper and his companion had stopped to talk more at their ease, near
the corner of the Rue Lafitte, in the middle of a large space which had
lately been cleared b