“You are mistaken, monsieur, I was in my office.”
“At any rate, I was told you were out; that gentleman over there assured me of the fact.”
And the iron-founder pointed out Cavaillon.
“However, that is of little importance,” he went on to say. “I return, and this time not only the cash-room is closed, but I am refused admittance to the banking-house, and find myself compelled to force my way in. Be so good as to tell me whether I can have my money.”
M. Fauvel’s flushed face turned pale with anger as he listened to this insolence; yet he controlled himself.
“I would be obliged to you monsieur, for a short delay.”
“I thought you told me—”
“Yes, yesterday. But this morning, this very instant, I find I have been robbed of three hundred and fifty thousand francs.”
M. de Clameran bowed ironically, and said:
“Shall I have to wait long?”