editors. He would risk them at roulette at Monaco.
Whether he lost or won was of little consequence. He would have played
that would be sufficient. He would be seen playing. Who would know
whether he lost or won? From Monaco he would pay Jardine by telegraph,
out of the five thousand Louis, which would be more than sufficient for
that; and, when he returned to Paris, he would free himself from his
other creditors with what remained.

The money affair decided--and it seemed to him cleverly settled--did
not include the bank-notes, which, spread out before his eyes, disturbed
him. What should he do with them? One moment he thought of burning them,
but reflection held him back. Would it not be folly to destroy this
fortune? In any case, would it not be the work of a narrow mind, of one
not fertile in resources?

In trying to think of some safe place to hide the banknotes, one thought
continually absorbed him: What was happening in the Rue Sainte-Anne? Had
any one discovered the dead man?

He should be there to observe events, instead of timidly shutting
himself up in his office.

For several minutes he tried to resist this thought, but it was stronger
than his will or his reason. So much was he under its power that he
could do nothing.

Willing or unwilling, foolish or not, he must go to the Rue Sainte-Anne.

He washed his hands, changed his shirt, and throwing the notes and gold
into a drawer, he went out.

He knew very well that there was a certain danger in leaving these
proofs of the crime, which, found in an official search, would overwhelm
him, without his being able to defend himself. But he thought that
an immediate search was unlikely to occur, and if he could not make a
probable story, it would be better for him not to reason about it. It
was a risk that he ran, but how much he had on his side!

He hastened along the Rue Neuve-des-Petits-Champs, but on approaching
the Rue Sainte-Anne he slackened his steps, looking about him and
listening. Nothing unusual struck him. Even when he turned into the Rue
Sainte-Anne he found it bore its ordinary aspect. A few passers-by,
not curious; no groups on the sidewalk; no shopkeepers at their doors.
Nothing was different from usual.

Apparently, nothing had yet been discovered. Then he stopped, judging
it useless to go farther. Already he had passed too much time before
Caffie's door, and when one was of his build, above the medium height,
with a physiognomy and appe