ago is of great importance to him; see if you can
repeat it now for his benefit."

In his anxiety to secure a good situation, M. Casimir had ventured to
apply to the Marquis de Valorsay; he had talked a good deal, and the
marquis had conceived the plan of making him an unsuspecting accomplice.
"I never deny my words," replied the valet, "and since monsieur is the
heir to the property, I won't hesitate to tell him that immense sums
have been stolen from the late count's estate."

M. Wilkie bounded from his chair. "Immense sums!" he exclaimed. "Is it
possible!"

"Monsieur shall judge. On the morning preceding his death, the count
had more than two millions in bank-notes and bonds stowed away in
his escritoire, but when the justice of the peace came to take the
inventory, the money could not be found. We servants were terribly
alarmed, for we feared that suspicion would fall upon us."

Ah! if Wilkie had only been alone he would have given vent to his true
feelings. But here, under the eyes of the marquis and M. de Coralth,
he felt that he must maintain an air of stoical indifference. He ALMOST
succeeded in doing so, and in a tolerably firm voice he remarked: "This
is not very pleasant news. Two millions! that's a good haul. Tell me, my
friend, have you any clue to the thief?"

The valet's troubled glance betrayed an uneasy conscience, but he had
gone too far to draw back. "I shouldn't like to accuse an innocent
person," he replied, "but there was some one who constantly had access
to that escritoire."

"And who was that?"

"Mademoiselle Marguerite."

"I don't know the lady."

"She's a young girl who is--at least people say--the count's
illegitimate daughter. Her word was law in the house."

"What has become of her?"

"She has gone to live with General de Fondege, one of the count's
friends. She wouldn't take her jewels and diamonds away with her, which
seemed very strange, for they are worth more than a hundred thousand
francs. Even Bourigeau said to me: 'That's unnatural, M. Casimir.'
Borigeau is the concierge of the house, a very worthy man. Monsieur will
not find his equal."

Unfortunately, this tribute to the merits of the valet's friend was
interrupted by the arrival of a footman, who, after tapping respectfully
at the door, entered the room and exclaimed: "The doctor is here, and
desires to speak with Monsieur le Marquis."

"Very well," replied M. de Valorsay, "ask him to wait. When I ring, you
can