gain,"
he requested, "and, especially, do not omit any thing that you have
heard or seen, not a word, not a gesture, not a look."

And, Maxence having complied,

"Now," said the commissary, "repeat every thing your father said at
the moment of going."

He did so. The commissary took a few notes, and then,

"What were," he inquired, "the relations of your family with the
Thaller family?"

"There were none."

"What! Neither Mme. nor Mlle. de Thaller ever visited you?"

"Never."

"Do you know the Marquis de Tregars?"

Maxence stared in surprise.

"Tregars!" he repeated. "It's the first time that I hear that
name."

The usual clients of the commissary would have hesitated to recognize
him, so completely had he set aside his professional stiffness, so
much had his freezing reserve given way to the most encouraging
kindness.

"Now, then," he resumed, "never mind M. de Tregars: let us talk of
the woman, who, you seem to think, has been the cause of M. Favoral's
ruin."

On the table before him lay the paper in which Maxence had read in
the morning the terrible article headed: "Another Financial Disaster."

"I know nothing of that woman," he replied; "but it must be easy to
find out, since the writer of this article pretends to know."

The commissary smiled, not having quite as much faith in newspapers
as Maxence seemed to have.

"Yes, I read that," he said.

"We might send to the office of that paper," suggested Mlle. Lucienne.

"I have already sent, my child."

And, without noticing the surprise of Maxence and of the young girl,
he rang the bell, and asked whether his secretary had returned. The
secretary answered by appearing in person.

"Well?" inquired the commissary.

"I have attended to the matter, sir," he replied. "I saw the
reporter who wrote the article in question; and, after beating about
the bush for some time, he finally confessed that he knew nothing
more than had been published, and that he had obtained his
information from two intimate friends of the cashier, M. Costeclar
and M. Saint Pavin."

"You should have gone to see those gentlemen."

"I did."

"Very well. What then?"

"Unfortunately, M. Costeclar had just gone out. As to M. Saint
Pavin, I found him at the office of his paper, 'The Financial Pilot.'
He is a coarse and vulgar personage, and received me like a
pickpocket. I had even a notion to--"

"Never mind that! Go on."

"He was closeted with another gent