“The name of his friend.”

“Gypsy!  Yes, that would be five letters.”

Louis was so excited that he jumped out of bed, slipped on his dressing-gown, and began to stride up and down the chamber.

“Now we have got him!” he said with vindictive satisfaction.  “There’s no chance of escape for him now!  Ah, the virtuous cashier won’t touch the money confided to him:  so we must touch it for him.  The disgrace will be just as great, no matter who opens the safe.  We have the word; you know where the key is kept.”

“Yes; when M. Fauvel goes out he always leaves the key in the drawer of his secretary, in his chamber.”

“Very good.  Go and get this key from Mme. Fauvel.  If she does not give it up willingly, use force:  so that you get it, that is the point; then open the safe, and take out every franc it contains.  Ah, Master Bertomy, you shall pay dear for being loved by the woman whom I love!”

For five minutes Clameran indulged in such a tirade of abuse against Prosper, mingled with rhapsodies of love for Madeleine, that Raoul thought him almost out of his mind.

“Before crying victory,” he said, “you had better consider the drawbacks and difficulties.  Prosper might change the word to-morrow.”

“Yes, he might; but it is not probable he will; he will forget what he said while drunk; besides, we can hasten matters.”

“That is not all.  M. Fauvel has given orders that no large sum shall be kept in the safe over-night; before closing the bank everything is sent to the Bank of France.”

“A large sum will be kept there the night I choose.”

“You think so?”

“I think this:  I have a hundred thousand crowns deposited with M. Fauvel:  and if I desire the money to be paid over to me early some morning, directly the bank is opened, of course the money will be kept in the safe the previous night.”

“A splendid idea!” cried Raoul admiringly.

It was a good idea; and the plotters spent several hours in studying its strong and weak points.

Raoul feared that he would never be able to overcome Mme. Fauvel’s resistance.  And, even if she yielded the key, would she not go directly and confess everything to her husband?  She was fond of Prosper, and would hesitate a long time before sacrificing him.

But Louis felt no uneasiness on this score.

“One sacrifice necessitates another,” he said:  “she has made too many to draw back at the last one.  She sacrificed her adopted daughter; therefore she will sacrifice a young man, who is, after all, a comparative stranger to her.”

“But madame will never believe any harm of Prosper; she will always have faith in his honor; therefore—­”

“You talk like an idiot, my verdant nephew!”

Before the conversation had ended, the plan seemed feasible.  The scoundrels made all their arrangements, and fixed the day for committing the crime.