“Thus James Spencer was brought up in affluence, as heir to the immense wealth of the noble lord.  He was a handsome, intelligent boy, and gave satisfaction to his protector until he was sixteen years of age; when he became intimate with a worthless set of people, and turned out badly.

“Lord Murray, who was very indulgent, pardoned many grave faults; but one fine morning he discovered that his adopted son had been imitating his signature upon some checks.  He indignantly dismissed him from the house, and told him never to show his face again.

“James Spencer had been living in London about four years, managing to support himself by gambling and swindling, when he met Clameran, who offered him twenty-five thousand francs to play a part in a little comedy which he had arranged to suit the actors.”

“You are a detective!” interrupted Raoul.

The fat man smiled grimly.

“At present,” he replied, “I am merely a friend of Prosper Bertomy.  It depends entirely upon your behavior which character I appear in while settling up this little affair.”

“What do you expect me to do?”

“Restore the three hundred and fifty thousand francs which you have stolen.”

The young rascal hesitated a moment, and then said: 

“The money is in this room.”

“Very good.  This frankness is creditable, and will benefit you.  I know that the money is in this room, and also exactly where it is to be found.  Be kind enough to look behind that cupboard, and you will find the three hundred and fifty thousand francs.”

Raoul saw that his game was lost.  He tremblingly went to the cupboard, and pulled out several bundles of bank-notes, and an enormous package of pawn-broker’s tickets.

“Very well done,” said M. Verduret, as he carefully examined the money and papers:  “this is the most sensible step you ever took.”

Raoul relied on this moment, when everybody’s attention would be absorbed by the money, to make his escape.  He slid toward the door, gently opened it, slipped out, and locked it on the outside; the key being still in the lock.

“He has escaped!” cried M. Fauvel.

“Naturally,” replied M. Verduret, without even looking up:  “I thought he would have sense enough to do that.”

“But is he to go unpunished?”

“My dear sir, would you have this affair become a public scandal?  Do you wish your wife’s name to be brought into a case of this nature before the police-court?”

“Oh, monsieur!”

“Then the best thing you can do, is to let the rascal go scot free.  Here are receipts for all the articles which he has pawned, so that we should consider ourselves fortunate.  He has kept fifty thousand francs, but that is all the better for you.  This sum will enable him to leave France, and we shall never see him again.”

Like everyone else, M. Fauvel yielded to the ascendancy of M. Verduret.