erge, which was the main point.

To tell the truth, the danger of the concierge removed, all was not
easy. There was the possibility of meeting one of the lodgers on the
stairs; there was a chance of not finding Caffie at home, or, at least,
not alone; or the bell might ring at the decisive moment. But, as
everything depended upon chance, these circumstances could not be
decided beforehand. It was a risk. If one of them happened, he would
wait until the next day; it would be one more day of agitation to live
through.

But one question that should be decided in advance, because, surely, it
presented serious dangers, was how he should justify the coming into his
hands of a sum of money which, providentially and in the nick of time,
relieved him from the embarrassments against which he struggled.

He had reached the Bois de Boulogne and still continued his walk. In
passing a fountain the rippling of the water attracted his attention,
and he stopped. Although the weather was damp and cold under the
influence of a strong west wind charged with rain, his tongue was dry;
he drank two goblets of water, and then pursued his way, indifferent
where he went.

Then he built up an arrangement which appeared ingenious to him, when it
occurred to him to remember that he had gone to Caffie to borrow three
thousand francs. Why would he not lend it to him, if not the first
day, at least the second? With this loan he paid his debts, if he were
questioned on this point. To prove this loan he need only to sign a
receipt which he could place in the safe, and which would be found
there. Would not the first thought of those who had signed a paper of
this kind be to take it when an occasion presented itself? As he would
not seize this occasion to carry off his note, it would be the proof
that he had not opened the safe.

Among other advantages, this arrangement did away with robbery; it
was only a loan. Later he would return these three thousand francs to
Caffies heirs. So much the worse for him if it were a forced loan.

On returning to Paris he would buy a sheet of stamped paper, and as he
had asked the price the previous evening, he knew that he could afford
the expense.

When he reached Saint Cloud he entered a tavern and ordered some bread
and cheese and wine. But if he drank little, he ate less, his parched
throat refusing to swallow bread.

He took up his march in the clayey streets on the slope of Mont
Valerian, but he was inse