M. Saint Pavin burst out laughing. He had recovered his coolness and his impudence, and seemed as much at ease as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
“Shall I be allowed to speak to my clerks,” he asked, “and to give them my instructions?”
“Yes,” replied the commissary, “but in my presence.”
The clerks, being called, appeared, consternation depicted upon their countenances, but joy sparkling in their eyes. In reality they were delighted at the misfortune which befell their employer.
“You see what happens to me, my boys,” he said. “But don’t be uneasy. In less than forty-eight hours, the error of which I am the victim will be recognized, and I shall be liberated on bail. At any rate, I can rely upon you, can’t I?”
They all swore that they would be more attentive and more zealous than ever.
And then addressing himself to his cashier, who was his confidential and right-hand man,
“As to you, Bernard,” he said, “you will run to M. de Thaller’s, and advise him of what’s going on. Let him have funds ready; for all our depositors will want to draw out their money at once. You will then call at the printing-office: have my article on the Mutual Credit kept out, and insert in its place some financial news cut out from other papers. Above all, don’t mention my arrest, unless M. de Thaller should demand it. Go ahead, and let ‘The Pilot’ appear as usual: that’s important.”
He had, whilst speaking, lighted a cigar. The honest man, victim of human iniquity, has not a firmer and more tranquil countenance.
“Justice does not know,” he said to the commissary, who was fumbling in all the drawers of the desk, “what irreparable damage she may cause by arresting so hastily a man who has charge of immense interests like me. It is the fortune of ten or twelve small capitalists that is put in jeopardy.”