thoughts by any outward sign. Not a muscle of
his face moved.

But he became more grave, and alternately watched the cashier and M.
Fauvel, as if trying to draw some profitable conclusion from their
behavior.

Prosper was very pale and dejected. He had dropped into a seat, and his
arms hung inert on either side of the chair.

The banker, on the contrary, remained standing with flashing eyes and
crimson face, expressing himself with extraordinary violence.

"And the importance of the theft is immense," continued M. Fauvel; "they
have taken a fortune, three hundred and fifty thousand francs. This
robbery might have had the most disastrous consequences. In times
like these, the want of this sum might compromise the credit of the
wealthiest banking-house in Paris."

"I believe so, if notes fall due."

"Well, monsieur, I had this very day a heavy payment to make."

"Ah, really!"

There was no mistaking the commissary's tone; a suspicion, the first,
had evidently entered his mind.

The banker understood it; he started, and said, quickly:

"I met the demand, but at the cost of a disagreeable sacrifice. I ought
to add further that, if my orders had been obeyed, the three hundred and
fifty thousand francs would not have been in."

"How is that?"

"I never desire to have large sums of money in my house over-night. My
cashier had positive orders to wait always until the last moment before
drawing money from the Bank of France. I above all forbade him to leave
money in the safe over-night."

"You hear this?" said the commissary to Prosper.

"Yes, monsieur," replied the cashier, "M. Fauvel's statement is quite
correct."

After this explanation, the suspicions of the commissary, instead of
being strengthened, were dissipated.

"Well," he said, "a robbery has been perpetrated, but by whom? Did the
robber enter from without?"

The banker hesitated a moment.

"I think not," he said at last.

"And I am certain he did not," said Prosper.

The commissary expected and was prepared for those answers; but it did
not suit his purpose to follow them up immediately.

"However," said he, "we must make ourselves sure of it." Turning toward
his companion:

"M. Fanferlot," he said, "go and see if you cannot discover some traces
that may have escaped the attention of these gentlemen."

M. Fanferlot, nicknamed the Squirrel, was indebted to his prodigious
agility for this title, of which he was not a little proud. Slim an