ou will only too soon learn my
misfortune and disgrace; then, yes, then you will applaud yourself for
what you have done."

She became more urgent; instead of commanding, she entreated; but
Prosper was inflexible.

"Your uncle is in the adjoining room, mademoiselle, with the commissary
of police and a detective. They will soon return. I entreat you to
retire that they may not find you here."

As he spoke he gently pushed her through the door, and closed it upon
her.

It was time, for the next moment the commissary and Monsieur Fauvel
entered. They had visited the main entrance and waiting-room, and had
heard nothing of what had passed in the study.

But Fanferlot had heard for them.

This excellent bloodhound had not lost sight of the cashier. He said to
himself, "Now that my young gentleman believes himself to be alone,
his face will betray him. I shall detect a smile or a wink that will
enlighten me."

Leaving M. Fauvel and the commissary to pursue their investigations, he
posted himself to watch. He saw the door open, and Madeleine appear upon
the threshold; he lost not a single word or gesture of the rapid scene
which had passed.

It mattered little that every word of this scene was an enigma. M.
Fanferlot was skilful enough to complete the sentences he did not
understand.

As yet he only had a suspicion; but a mere suspicion is better than
nothing; it is a point to start from. So prompt was he in building a
plan upon the slightest incident that he thought he saw in the past of
these people, who were utter strangers to him, glimpses of a domestic
drama.

If the commissary of police is a sceptic, the detective has faith; he
believes in evil.

"I understand the case now," said he to himself. "This man loves the
young lady, who is really very pretty; and, as he is quite handsome,
I suppose his love is reciprocated. This love-affair vexes the banker,
who, not knowing how to get rid of the importunate lover by fair means,
has to resort to foul, and plans this imaginary robbery, which is very
ingenious."

Thus to M. Fanferlot's mind, the banker had simply robbed himself, and
the innocent cashier was the victim of an odious machination.

But this conviction was, at present, of little service to Prosper.

Fanferlot, the ambitious, who had determined to obtain renown in his
profession, decided to keep his conjectures to himself.

"I will let the others go their way, and I'll go mine," he said.
"When, by