“‘Let me go!’ he said.  ‘I must go!’

“But they did not allow him to go as yet.  They guessed what was going on in his mind.  Sir Thorn asked him coolly,—­

“’Where do you think of going?  Do you mean to denounce us?  Have a care!  You would only sacrifice yourself, without doing us any harm.  If you think you can use Sarah’s letter, in which she appoints a meeting, as a weapon against us, you are mistaken.  She did not write that letter; and, moreover, she can prove an alibi.  You see we have prepared everything for this business during the last three months; and nothing has been left to chance.  Do not forget that I have commissioned you twenty times to buy or sell for me on ’Change, and that it was always done in your name, at my request.  How can you say you did not speculate on ‘Change?’

“The poor cashier’s heart sank within him.  Had he not himself, for fear lest a suspicion should fall upon Sarah Brandon, told the board of directors in his letter that he had been tempted by unlucky speculations?  Had he not altered the entries in the books in order to prove this assertion?  Would they believe him if he were to tell the truth?  Whom could he ever hope to persuade that what was probable was false, and that the improbable was true?  Sir Thorn continued with his horrid sneers,—­

“’Have you forgotten the letters which you wrote me for the purpose of borrowing money from me, and in which you confess your defalcations?  Here they are.  You can read them.’

“These letters, M. Champcey, are those which Sarah showed you; and Malgat was frightened out of his senses.  He had never written such letters; and yet there was his handwriting, imitated with such amazing perfection, that he began to doubt his own senses and his own reason.  He only saw clearly that no one would look upon them as forgeries.

“Ah!  Maxime de Brevan is an artist.  His letter to the navy department has, no doubt, proved it to you.

“Seeing Malgat thus stupefied, Sarah took the word, and said,—­

“’Look here, my dear; I’ll give you some advice.  Here are ten thousand francs:  take them, and run for your life.  It is time yet to take the train for Brussels.’

“But he rose, and said,—­

“’No!  There is nothing left for me but to die.  May my blood come upon you!’

“And he rushed out, pursued by the insulting laugh of the wretches.”

Amazed at the inconceivable boldness of this atrocious plot, Daniel and Henrietta were shuddering with horror.  As to Mrs. Bertolle, she had sunk into a chair, trembling in all her limbs.  The old gentleman, however, continued with evident haste,—­

“Whether Malgat did, or did not, commit suicide, he was never heard of again.  The trial came on, and he was condemned in contumaciam to ten years’ penal servitude.  Sarah, also, was examined by a magistrate; but she made it a success.

“And that was all.  And this crime, one of the most atrocious ever conceived by human wickedness, went to swell the long list of unpunished outrages.  The robbers triumphed impudently in broad daylight.  They had four hundred thousand francs.  They could retire from business.