ume and placed it on
the table. It was M. Joyeuse, formerly cashier for Hemerlingue and Son.
But I had no time to present my respects to him.

"Who did that?" the magistrate asked me, opening the book at a place
where a leaf had been torn out. "Come, do not lie about it."

I did not lie, for I had no idea, as I never concerned myself about the
books. However, I thought it my duty to mention M. de Gery, the Nabob's
secretary, who used often to come to our offices at night and shut
himself up alone in the counting-room for hours at a time. Thereupon
little Pere Joyeuse turned red with anger.

"What he says is absurd, Monsieur le Juge d'Instruction. Monsieur de
Gery is the young man I mentioned to you. He went to the _Territoriale_
solely for the purpose of keeping an eye on affairs there, and felt too
deep an interest in poor Monsieur Jansoulet to destroy the receipts for
his contributions, the proofs of his blind but absolute honesty.
However, Monsieur de Gery, who has been detained a long while in Tunis,
is now on his way home, and will soon be able to afford all necessary
explanations."

I felt that my zeal was likely to compromise me.

"Be careful, Passajon," said the judge very sternly. "You are here only
as a witness; but if you try to give the investigation a wrong turn you
may return as a suspect."--Upon my word the monster seemed to desire
it.--"Come, think, who tore out this page?"

Thereupon I very opportunely remembered that, a few days before leaving
Paris, our Governor had told me to bring the books to his house, where
they had remained until the following day. The clerk made a note of my
declaration, whereupon the magistrate dismissed me with a wave of the
hand, warning me that I must hold myself at his disposal. When I was at
the door he recalled me:

"Here, Monsieur Passajon, take this; I have no further use for it."

He handed me the papers he had been consulting while he questioned me;
and my confusion can be imagined when I saw on the cover the word
"_Memoirs_" written in my roundest hand. I had myself furnished justice
with weapons, with valuable information which the suddenness of our
catastrophe had prevented me from rescuing from the general cleaning out
executed by the police in our offices.

My first impulse, on returning, was to tear these tale-bearing sheets in
pieces; then, after reflection, having satisfied myself that there was
nothing in these _Memoirs_ to compromise me, I decided