“Take care,” said Beausire, “that Ducorneau does not hear us.”
“If you do not leave me alone,” said the valet, “I will denounce you all.”
“And I will strangle you,” said Don Manoël, trying to push him into a neighboring closet.
“Send away Ducorneau somewhere, Beausire, while I finish this fellow.”
When he had locked him up, he returned to the room. Beausire was not there; Don Manoël felt tempted. He was alone, and Beausire might be some little time; he could open the chest, take out all the bank-notes, and be off in two minutes. He ran to the room where it was: the door was locked. “Ah,” thought he, “Beausire distrusted me, and locked the door before he went.” He forced back the lock with his sword, and then uttered a terrible cry. The chest was opened and empty. Beausire had got, as we know, a second key; he had forestalled Manoël.
Manoël ran down like a madman; the porter was singing at the door—he asked if Beausire had passed.
“Yes, some ten minutes ago.”
Manoël became furious, summoned them all, and ran to release the unfortunate valet. But when he told his story, Manoël was accused of being an accomplice of Beausire, and they all turned against him.
M. Ducorneau felt ready to faint, when he entered and saw the men preparing to hang M. de Souza. “Hang M. de Souza!” cried he. “It is high treason.”
At last they threw him into a cellar, fearing his cries would arouse the neighborhood.