Raoul had an argument in reserve which he knew would make Mme. Fauvel
submit to his will.

"Now, really," he said with a cynical laugh, "do you pretend that you do
not know Prosper and I arranged this little affair together, and that he
is to have half the booty?"

"Impossible! I never will believe such a thing of Prosper!"

"Why, how do you suppose I discovered the secret word? Who do you
suppose disobeyed orders, and left the money in the safe?"

"Prosper is honest."

"Of course he is, and so am I too. The only thing is, that we both need
money."

"You are telling a falsehood, Raoul!"

"Upon my soul, I am not. Madeleine rejected Prosper, and the poor fellow
has to console himself for her cruelty; and these sorts of consolations
are expensive, my good mother."

He took up the candle, and gently but firmly led Mme. Fauvel toward the
staircase.

She mechanically suffered herself to be led along, more bewildered by
what she had just heard than she was at the opening of the safe-door.

"What!" she gasped, "can Prosper be a thief?"

She began to think herself the victim of a terrible nightmare, and that,
when she waked, her mind would be relieved of this intolerable torture.
She helplessly clung to Raoul's arm as he helped her up the narrow
little staircase.

"You must put the key back in the secretary," said Raoul, as soon as
they were in the chamber again.

But she did not seem to hear him; so he went and replaced the safe-key
in the place from which he had seen her take it.

He then led, or rather carried, Mme. Fauvel into the little
sitting-room, and placed her in an easy-chair.

The set, expressionless look of the wretched woman's eyes, and her dazed
manner, frightened Raoul, who thought that she had lost her mind, that
her reason had finally given way beneath this last terrible shock.

"Come, cheer up, my dear mother," he said in coaxing tones as he rubbed
her icy hands; "you have saved my life, and rendered an immense service
to Prosper. Don't be alarmed; everything will come out right in the
end. Prosper will be accused, perhaps arrested; he expects that, and is
prepared for it; he will deny his culpability; and, as there is no proof
against him, he will be set at liberty immediately."

But these falsehoods were wasted on Mme. Fauvel, who was incapable of
understanding anything said to her.

"Raoul," she moaned in a broken-hearted tone, "Raoul, my son, you have
killed me."

Her gentle voic