of the money he spent so profusely; for he told
Mme. Zelie that he was at the end of his tether, and that, after
having spent his own fortune, he was spending other people's money.
He had announced his intended departure; he had sold the house, and
received its price. Finally, at the last moment, what does he do?

"Instead of going off quietly and secretly, like a man who is
running away, and who knows that he is pursued, he tells every one
where he intends to go; he writes it on all his trunks, in letters
half a foot high; and then rides in great display to the railway
station, with a woman, several carriages, servants, etc. What is
the object of all this? To get caught? No, but to start a false
scent. Therefore, in his mind, every thing must have been arranged
in advance, and the catastrophe was far from taking him by surprise;
therefore the scene with M. de Thaller must have been prepared;
therefore, it must have been on purpose that he left his pocketbook
behind, with the bill in it that was to lead us straight here;
therefore all we have seen is but a transparent comedy, got up for
our special benefit, and intended to cover up the truth, and
mislead the law."

But Maxence was not entirely convinced.

"Still," he remarked, "those enormous expenses."

M. de Tregars shrugged his shoulders.

"Have you any idea," he said, "what display can be made with a
million? Let us admit that your father spent two, four millions
even. The loss of the Mutual Credit is twelve millions. What has
become of the other eight?"

And, as Maxence made no answer,

"It is those eight millions," he added, "that I want, and that I
shall have. It is in Paris that your father is hid, I feel certain.
We must find him; and we must make him tell the truth, which I
already more than suspect."

Whereupon, throwing on the table the pint of beer which he had not
drunk, he walked out of the cafe with Maxence.

"Here you are at last!" exclaimed the coachman, who had been
waiting at the corner for over three hours, a prey to the utmost
anxiety.

But M. de Tregars had no time for explanations; and, pushing
Maxence into the cab, he jumped in after him, crying to the
coachman,

"24 Rue Joquelet. Five francs extra for yourself." A driver who
expects an extra five francs, always has, for five minutes at least,
a horse as fast as Gladiateur.

Whilst the cab was speeding on to its destination,

"What is most important for us now," sai