“Long enough for me to send to the bank.”
Then turning his back on the iron-founder, M. Fauvel said to his cashier:
“Write and send as quickly as possible to the bank an order for three hundred thousand francs. Let the messenger take a carriage.”
Prosper remained motionless.
“Do you hear me?” said the banker angrily.
The cashier trembled; he seemed as if trying to shake off a terrible nightmare.
“It is useless to send,” he said in a measured tone; “we owe this gentleman three hundred thousand francs, and we have less than one hundred thousand in the bank.”
M. de Clameran evidently expected this answer, for he muttered:
“Naturally.”
Although he pronounced this word, his voice, his manner, his face clearly said: