Mlle. Gilberte was listening, her mouth open, and wondering what Marius was aiming at, and how he could remain so calm.

“That disaster,” he went on, “was at the time the subject of an enormous number of very witty jokes.  The people of the bourse could hardly admire enough these bold financiers who had so deftly relieved that candid marquis of his money.  That was well done for him; what was he meddling with?  As to myself, to stop the prosecutions with which my father was threatened, I gave up all I had.  I was quite young, and, as you see, quite what you call, I believe, ‘green.’  I am no longer so now.  Were such a thing to happen to me to-day, I should want to know at once what had become of the millions:  I would feel all the pockets around me.  I would say, ‘Stop thief!’”

At every word, as it were, M. Costeclar’s uneasiness became more manifest.

“It was not I,” he said, “who received the benefit of M. de Tregars’ fortune.”

Marius nodded approvingly.

“I know now,” he replied, “among whom the spoils were divided.  You, M. Costeclar, you took what you could get, timidly, and according to your means.  Sharks are always accompanied by small fishes, to which they abandon the crumbs they disdain.  You were but a small fish then:  you accommodated yourself with what your patrons, the sharks, did not care about.  But, when you tried to operate alone, you were not shrewd enough:  you left proofs of your excessive appetite for other people’s money.  Those proofs I have in my possession.”

M. Costeclar was now undergoing perfect torture.

“I am caught,” he said, “I know it:  I told M. de Villegre so.”

“Why are you here, then?”

“How did I know that the count had been sent by you?”

“That’s a poor reason, sir.”

“Besides, after what has occurred, after Favoral’s flight, I thought myself relieved of my engagement.”

“Indeed!”

“Well, if you insist upon it, I am wrong, I suppose.”

“Not only you are wrong,” uttered Marius still perfectly cool, “but you have committed a great imprudence.  By failing to keep your engagements, you have relieved me of mine.  The pact is broken.  According to the agreement, I have the right, as I leave here, to go straight to the police.”

M. Costeclar’s dull eye was vacillating.

“I did not think I was doing wrong,” he muttered.  “Favoral was my friend.”

“And that’s the reason why you were coming to propose to Mlle. Favoral to become your mistress?  There she is, you thought, without resources, literally without bread, without relatives, without friends to protect her:  this is the time to come forward.  And thinking you could be cowardly, vile, and infamous with impunity, you came.”

To be thus treated, he, the successful man, in presence of this young girl, whom, a moment before, he was crushing with his impudent opulence, no, M. Costeclar could not stand it.  Losing completely his head,