This last insinuation proved sufficient to break up the perfect accord that had hitherto existed among all the creditors.  Distrust arose; suspicious glances were exchanged; and, as the old newspaper woman was keeping up her groans,

“I should like to know why you should be paid before us,” two women told her roughly.  “Our rights are just as good as yours!”

Prompt to avail himself of the dispositions of the crowd,

“And, moreover,” resumed the old lawyer, “in whom did we place our confidence?  Was it in Favoral the private individual?  To a certain extent, yes; but it was much more to the cashier of the Mutual Credit.  Therefore that establishment owes us, at least, some explanations.  And this is not all.  Are we really so badly burned, that we should scream so loud?  What do we know about it?  That Favoral is charged with embezzlement, that they came to arrest him, and that he has run away.  Is that any reason why our money should be lost?  I hope not.  And so what should we do?  Act prudently, and wait patiently for the work of justice.”

Already, by this time, the creditors had slipped out one by one; and soon the servant closed the door on the last of them.

Then Mme. Favoral, Maxence, and Mlle. Gilberte surrounded M. Chapelain, and, pressing his hands,

“How thankful we feel, sir, for the service you have just rendered us!”

But the old lawyer seemed in no wise proud of his victory.

“Do not thank me,” he said.  “I have only done my duty,—­what any honest man would have done in my place.”

And yet, under the appearance of impassible coldness, which he owed to the long practice of a profession which leaves no illusions, he evidently felt a real emotion.

“It is you whom I pity,” he added, “and with all my soul,—­you, madame, you, my dear Gilberte, and you, too, Maxence.  Never had I so well understood to what degree is guilty the head of a family who leaves his wife and children exposed to the consequences of his crimes.”

He stopped.  The servant was trying her best to put the dining-room in some sort of order wheeling the table to the centre of the room, and lifting up the chairs from the floor.

“What pillage!” she grumbled.  “Neighbors too,—­people from whom we bought our things!  But they were worse than savages; impossible to do any thing with them.”

“Don’t trouble yourself, my good girl,” said M. Chapelain:  “they won’t come back any more!”

Mme. Favoral looked as if she wished to drop on her knees before the old lawyer.

“How, very kind you are!” she murmured:  “you are not too angry with my poor Vincent!”

With the look of a man who has made up his mind to make the best of a disaster that he cannot help, M. Chapelain shrugged his shoulders.

“I am angry with no one but myself,” he uttered in a bluff tone.  “An old bird like me should not have allowed himself to be caught in a pigeon-trap.  I am inexcusable.  But we want to get rich.  It’s slow work getting rich by working, and it’s so much easier to get the money already made out of our neighbor’s pockets!  I have been unable to resist the temptation myself.  It’s my own fault; and I should say it was a good lesson, if it did not cost so dear.”