“Let me tell you all,” he interrupted, “and try with you to find an issue to this horrible situation.  Strange rumors are afloat about M. Favoral.  It is said that his austerity was but a mask, his sordid economy a means of gaining confidence.  It is affirmed that in fact he abandoned himself to all sorts of disorders; that he had, somewhere in Paris, an establishment, where he lavished the money of which he was so sparing here.  Is it so?  The same thing is said of all those in whose hands large fortunes have melted.”

The young girl had become quite red.

“I believe that is true,” she replied.  “The commissary of police stated so to us.  He found among my father’s papers receipted bills for a number of costly articles, which could only have been intended for a woman.”

M. de Tregars looked perplexed.

“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?”