“Why, how do you suppose I discovered the secret word? Who do you suppose disobeyed orders, and left the money in the safe?”
“Prosper is honest.”
“Of course he is, and so am I too. The only thing is, that we both need money.”
“You are telling a falsehood, Raoul!”
“Upon my soul, I am not. Madeleine rejected Prosper, and the poor fellow has to console himself for her cruelty; and these sorts of consolations are expensive, my good mother.”
He took up the candle, and gently but firmly led Mme. Fauvel toward the staircase.
She mechanically suffered herself to be led along, more bewildered by what she had just heard than she was at the opening of the safe-door.
“What!” she gasped, “can Prosper be a thief?”
She began to think herself the victim of a terrible nightmare, and that, when she waked, her mind would be relieved of this intolerable torture. She helplessly clung to Raoul’s arm as he helped her up the narrow little staircase.
“You must put the key back in the secretary,” said Raoul, as soon as they were in the chamber again.