"About thirty thousand francs. The person who bought them, and by whom the fraud was detected, gave that amount for them to your son."
"I can still pay it, sir. Let the jeweller go to my banker the day after to-morrow, and I will have it all arranged."
The commissary bowed. The comte left the room.
After the departure of the latter, the magistrate, deeply affected by this unlooked-for scene, went slowly towards the salon, the curtains of which were closed. He moved them on one side with agitation.
"Nobody!" he exclaimed, amazed beyond measure, and looking around him, unable to see the least trace of the tragic event which he believed had just occurred.
Then, seeing a small door in the panel of the apartment, he went towards it. It was fastened in the side of the secret staircase.
"It was a trick, and he has escaped by this door!" he exclaimed, with vexation.
And in fact, the vicomte, having in his father's presence placed the pistol on his heart, had very dexterously fired it under his arm, and rapidly made off.
In spite of the most careful search throughout the house, they could not discover Florestan.
During the conversation with his father and the commissary, he had quickly gained the boudoir, then the conservatory, then the lone alley, and so to the Champs Elysées.