“Then Favoral must have left without a sou!”
“They accuse him of having carried away millions, sir; but I would swear that it is not so.”
M. Costeclar approved with a nod.
“I am of the same opinion,” he declared, “unless—but no, he was not the man to try such a game. And yet—but again no, he was too closely watched. Besides, he was carrying a very heavy load, a load that exhausted all his resources.”
Mlle. Gilberte, hoping that she was going to learn something, made an effort to preserve her indifference.
“What do you mean?” she inquired.
He looked at her, smiled, and, in a light tone,
“Nothing,” he answered, “only some conjectures of my own.”
And throwing himself upon a chair, his head leaning upon its back,
“That is not the object of my visit either,” he uttered. “Favoral is overboard: don’t let us say any thing more about him. Whether he has got ‘the bag’ or not, you’ll never see him again: he is as good as dead. Let us, therefore, talk of the living, of yourself. What’s going to become of you?”