"What reports?"
"Oh, nothing. Mere folly."
"But, tell me—"
"Oh, there can be no certainty in the gossip about you!"
"What gossip?"
"Oh, it is false from beginning to end. But there are chatterers who say that you are mixed up in some unpleasant transactions. Idle gossip, I am quite certain. It is just the same as the report that you and I speculated on the Exchange together. These reports soon died away. For I will always say that—"
"So you suppose that your money is not safe with me?"
"Oh, no—no! But, at this moment, I should like to have it in my own hands."
"Wait a moment." M. Ferrand shut the drawer of his bureau, and rose.
"Where are you going, my dear cashkeeper?"