“And does any one know who this woman is?” he asked.
“Whoever she may be, I admit that she may have cost M. Favoral
considerable sums. But can she have cost him twelve millions?”
“Precisely the remark which M. Chapelain made.”
“And which every sensible man must also make. I know very well
that to conceal for years a considerable deficit is a costly
operation, requiring purchases and sales, the handling and shifting
of funds, all of which is ruinous in the extreme. But, on the other
hand, M. Favoral was making money, a great deal of money. He was
rich: he was supposed to be worth millions. Otherwise, Costeclar
would never have asked your hand.”
“M. Chapelain pretends that at a certain time my father had at least
fifty thousand francs a year.”
“It’s bewildering.”
For two or three minutes M. de Tregars remained silent, reviewing
in his mind every imaginable eventuality, and then,
“But no matter,” he resumed. “As soon as I heard this morning the
amount of the deficit, doubts came to my mind. And it is for that
reason, dear friend, that I was so anxious to see you and speak to
you. It would be necessary for me to know exactly what occurred
here last night.”
Rapidly, but without omitting a single useful detail, Mlle. Gilberte
narrated the scenes of the previous night--the sudden appearance of
M. de Thaller, the arrival of the commissary of police, M. Favoral’s
escape, thanks to Maxence’s presence of mind. Every one of her
father’s words had remained present to her mind; and it was almost
literally that she repeated his strange speeches to his indignant
friends, and his incoherent remarks at the moment of flight, when,
whilst acknowledging his fault, he said that he was not as guilty
as they thought; that, at any rate, he was not alone guilty; and
that he had been shamefully sacrificed. When she had finished,
“That’s exactly what I thought,” said M. de Tregars.
“What?”
“M. Favoral accepted a role in one of those terrible financial
dramas which ruin a thousand poor dupes to the benefit of two or
three clever rascals. Your father wanted to be rich: he needed
money to carry on his intrigues. He allowed himself to be tempted.
But whilst he believed himself one of the managers, called upon to
divide the receipts, he was but a scene-shifter with a stated
salary. The moment of this denouement having come, his so-called
partners disappeared through a trap-door with the cash, leaving
him alone, as they say, to face the music.”
“If that’s the case,” replied the young girl, “why didn’t my father
speak?”
“What was he to say?”
“Name his accomplices.”
“And suppose he had no proofs of their complicity to offer? He was
the cashier of the Mutual Credit; and it is from his cash that the
millions are gone.”
Mlle. Gilberte’s conjectures had run far ahead of that sentence.
Looking straight at Marius,
“Then,” she said, “you believe, as M. Chapelain does, that M. de
Thaller--”
“Ah! M. Chapelain thinks--”
“That the manager of the Mutual Credit must have known the fact of
the frauds.”
“And that he had his share of them?”
“A larger share than his cashier, yes.”
A singular smile curled M. de Tregars’ lips. “Quite possible,” he
replied: “that’s quite possible.”
For the past few moments Mlle. Gilberte’s embarrassment was quite
evident in her look. At last, overcoming her hesitation,
“Pardon me,” said she, “I had imagined that M. de Thaller was one
of those men whom you wished to strike; and I had indulged in the
hope, that, whilst having justice done to your father, you were
thinking, perhaps, of avenging mine.”
M. de Tregars stood up, as if moved by a spring. “Well, yes!” he
exclaimed. “Yes, you have correctly guessed. But how can we
obtain this double result? A single misstep at this moment might
lose all. Ah, if I only knew your father’s real situation; if I
could only see him and speak to him! In one word he might, perhaps,
place in my hands a sure weapon,--the weapon that I have as yet
been unable to find.”
“Unfortunately,” replied Mlle. Gilberte with a gesture of despair,
“we are without news of my father; and he even refused to tell us
where he expected to take refuge.”
“But he will write, perhaps. Besides, we might look for him,
quietly, so as not to excite the suspicions of the police; and if
your brother Maxence was only willing to help me--”
“Alas! I fear that Maxence may have other cares. He insisted upon
going out this morning, in spite of mother’s request to the contrary.”
But Marius stopped her, and, in the tone of a man who knows much
more than he is willing to say,--“Do not calumniate Maxence,” he
said: “it is through him, perhaps, that we will receive the help
that we need.”
Eleven o’clock struck. Mlle. Gilberte started.
“Dear me!” she exclaimed, “mother will be home directly.”
M. de Tregars might as well have waited for her. Henceforth he had
nothing to conceal. Yet, after duly deliberating with the young
girl, they decided that he should withdraw, and that he would send
M. de Villegre to declare his intentions. He then left, and, five
minutes later, Mme. Favoral and M. Chapelain appeared.
The ex-attorney was furious; and he threw the package of bank-notes
upon the table with a movement of rage.
“In order to return them to M. de Thaller,” he exclaimed, “it was at
least necessary to see him. But the gentleman is invisible; keeps
himself under lock and key, guarded by a perfect cloud of servants
in livery.”
Meantime, Mme. Favoral had approached her daughter.
“Your brother?” she asked in a whisper.
“He has not yet come home.”
“Dear me!” sighed the poor mother: “at such a time he forsakes us,
and for whose sake?”