“Justice is seeking information,” said the magistrate, as he dismissed the witness, but not before he had taken down du Croisier’s last observation.

“But the money, sir——­”

“The money is at your house.”

Chesnel, likewise summoned, came forward to explain the matter.  The truth of his assertions was borne out by Mme. du Croisier’s deposition.  The Count had already been examined.  Prompted by Chesnel, he produced du Croisier’s first letter, in which he begged the Count to draw upon him without the insulting formality of depositing the amount beforehand.  The Comte d’Esgrignon next brought out a letter in Chesnel’s handwriting, by which the notary advised him of the deposit of a hundred thousand crowns with M. du Croisier.  With such primary facts as these to bring forward as evidence, the young Count’s innocence was bound to emerge triumphantly from a court of law.

Du Croisier went home from the court, his face white with rage, and the foam of repressed fury on his lips.  His wife was sitting by the fireside in the drawing-room at work upon a pair of slippers for him.  She trembled when she looked into his face, but her mind was made up.

“Madame,” he stammered out, “what deposition is this that you made before the magistrate?  You have dishonored, ruined, and betrayed me!”

“I have saved you, monsieur,” answered she.  “If some day you will have the honor of connecting yourself with the d’Esgrignons by marrying your niece to the Count, it will be entirely owing to my conduct to-day.”

“A miracle!” cried he.  “Balaam’s ass has spoken.  Nothing will astonish me after this.  And where are the hundred thousand crowns which (so M. Camusot tells me) are here in my house?”

“Here they are,” said she, pulling out a bundle of banknotes from beneath the cushions of her settee.  “I have not committed mortal sin by declaring that M. Chesnel gave them into my keeping.”

“While I was away?”

“You were not here.”

“Will you swear that to me on your salvation?”

“I swear it,” she said composedly.

“Then why did you say nothing to me about it?” demanded he.

“I was wrong there,” said his wife, “but my mistake was all for your good.  Your niece will be Marquise d’Esgrignon some of these days, and you will perhaps be a deputy, if you behave well in this deplorable business.  You have gone too far; you must find out how to get back again.”

Du Croisier, under stress of painful agitation, strode up and down his drawing-room; while his wife, in no less agitation, awaited the result of this exercise.  Du Croisier at length rang the bell.

“I am not at home to any one to-night,” he said, when the man appeared; “shut the gates; and if any one calls, tell them that your mistress and I have gone into the country.  We shall start directly after dinner, and dinner must be half an hour earlier than usual.”