“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 by pulling down an old house.
M. Verduret seemed to be anxious, and was constantly looking around as
if he expected someone.
He soon uttered an exclamation of satisfaction.
At the other end of the vacant space, he saw Cavaillon, who was
bareheaded and running.
He was so excited that he did not even stop to shake hands with Prosper,
but darted up to M. Verduret, and said:
“They have gone, monsieur!”
“How long since?”
“They went about a quarter of an hour ago.”
“The deuce they did! Then we have not an instant to lose.”
He handed Cavaillon the note he had written some hours before at
Prosper’s house.
“Here, send him this, and then return at once to your desk; you might be
missed. It was very imprudent in you to come out without your hat.”
Cavaillon ran off as quickly as he had come. Prosper was stupefied.
“What!” he exclaimed. “You know Cavaillon?”
“So it seems,” answered M. Verduret with a smile, “but we have no time
to talk; come on, hurry!”
“Where are we gong now?”
“You will soon know; walk fast!”
And he set the example by striding rapidly toward the Rue Lafayette. As
they went along he continued talking more to himself than to Prosper.
“Ah,” said he, “it is not by putting both feet in one shoe, that one
wins a race. The track once found, we should never rest an instant.
When the savage discovers the footprints of an enemy, he follows it
persistently, knowing that falling rain or a gust of wind may efface
the footprints at any moment. It is the same with us: the most trifling
incident may destroy the traces we are following up.”