idnight ramble and conversation with the Marquis
de Valorsay, Madame de Fondege's letter, and lastly, her visit and all
that she had said.

The magistrate listened with his eyes fixed on his ring "This is very
serious, very serious," he said at last. "Perhaps you are right. Perhaps
M. Ferailleur is innocent. And yet, why should he abscond? why should he
leave the country?"

"Ah! monsieur, Pascal's flight is only feigned. He is in
Paris--concealed somewhere--I'm sure of it; and I know a man who will
find him for me. Only one thing puzzles me--his silence. To disappear
without a word, without giving me any sign of life----"

The magistrate interrupted her by a gesture. "I see nothing surprising
in that since your companion is the Marquis de Valorsay's spy. How do
you know that she has not intercepted or destroyed some letter from M.
Pascal?"

Mademoiselle Marguerite turned pale. "Great Heavens! how blind I have
been!" she exclaimed. "I did not think of that. Oh, the wretch! if one
could only question her and make her confess her crime. It is horrible
to think that if I wish to arrive at the truth, I must remain with her
and treat her in the future just as I have treated her till now."

But the magistrate was not the man to wander from the subject he was
investigating. "Let us return to Madame de Fondege," said he. "She
is extremely unwilling to see you go out into the world alone.
Why?--through affection? No. Why, then? This is what we must ascertain.
Secondly, she seems indifferent as to whether you accept her hospitality
or enter a convent."

"She seems to prefer that I should enter a convent."

"Very well. What conclusion can we draw from that? Simply, that the
Fondege family don't particularly care about keeping you with them, or
marrying you to their son. If they don't desire this, it is because they
are perfectly sure that the missing money was not taken by you. Now, let
me ask, how can they be so certain? Simply because they know where the
missing millions are--and if they know----"

"Ah! monsieur, it is because they've stolen them!"

The magistrate was silent. He had turned the bezel of his ring inside, a
sure sign of stormy weather, so his clerk would have said--and though he
had his features under excellent control he could not entirely conceal
some signs of a severe mental conflict he was undergoing. "Well, yes,
my child," he said, at last. "Yes, it is my conviction that the Fondeges
possess the mill