Unfortunately he did not strictly follow this programme; for, having reached the Orleans railway station, he went into a cafe near by, and called for a glass of ale.

As he sat sipping his glass, he picked up a daily paper, The Sun, and under the head of “Fashionable Gossip,” signed Jacques Durand, read the following: 

“We understand that the niece of one of our most prominent bankers, M. Andre Fauvel, will shortly be married to M. le Marquis Louis de Clameran.  The engagement has been announced.”

This news, coming upon him so unexpectedly, proved to Prosper the justness of M. Verduret’s calculations.

Alas! why did not this certainty inspire him with absolute faith? why did it not give him courage to wait, the strength of mind to refrain from acting on his own responsibility?

Frenzied by distress of mind, he already saw Madeleine indissolubly united to this villain, and, thinking that M. Verduret would perhaps arrive too late to be of use, determined at all risks to throw an obstacle in the way of the marriage.

He called for pen and paper, and forgetting that no situation can excuse the mean cowardice of an anonymous letter, wrote in a disguised hand the following lines to M. Fauvel: 

“DEAR SIR—­You consigned your cashier to prison; you acted prudently, since you were convinced of his dishonesty and faithlessness.

“But, even if he stole three hundred and fifty thousand francs from your safe, does it follow that he also stole Mme. Fauvel’s diamonds, and pawned them at the Mont-de-Piete, where they now are?

“Warned as you are, if I were you, I would not be the subject of public scandal.  I would watch my wife, and would be distrustful of handsome cousins.

“Moreover, I would, before signing the marriage contract of Mlle. Madeleine, inquire at the Prefecture of Police, and obtain some information concerning the noble Marquis de Clameran.

“A FRIEND.”

Prosper hastened off to post his letter.  Fearing that it would not reach M. Fauvel in time, he walked up to the Rue Cardinal Lemoine, and put it in the main letter-box, so as to be certain of its speedy delivery.

Until now he had not doubted the propriety of his action.

But now when too late, when he heard the sound of his letter falling into the box, a thousand scruples filled his mind.  Was it not wrong to act thus hurriedly?  Would not this letter interfere with M. Verduret’s plans?  Upon reaching the hotel, his doubts were changed into bitter regrets.

Joseph Dubois was waiting for him; he had received a despatch from his patron, saying that his business was finished, and that he would return the next evening at nine o’clock.

Prosper was wretched.  He would have given all he had to recover the anonymous letter.

And he had cause for regret.

At that very hour M. Verduret was taking his seat in the cars at Tarascon, meditating upon the most advantageous plan to be adopted in pursuance of his discoveries.