“Raoul, my friend,” said M. Georges, diplomatically, “old Antoine says there is a superb trout which lies always close under the bridge. Shall we try to ensnare him?”
The temptation was irresistible to a born fisherman, although the boy had a feeling that he would like to hear what was to be talked about. He kept M. Georges by his side as long as he could, but at last became absorbed, and Félicie and her companion, standing on the bridge, talked in low tones. He murmured:
“Now, permit me to hear.”
“They say,” she began, tremulously, “that Léon does not deny it. Oh, monsieur, that cannot be possible, can it?”
“I, for one, should not believe it, whatever he said,” announced M. Georges, stoutly.
“You would not? You would think there was a mistake?”
“Beyond a doubt.”
“Ah, what a comfort it is to speak to you!”
“Mademoiselle, you are goodness itself,” answered the delighted M. Georges. “But can you recall more particulars?”
“Oh, there was a whole column!” cried Félicie, with a shudder. “So far as I could make out, what they said was that they understood that Monsieur de Beaudrillart admitted having taken the money, but said that he immediately informed Monsieur de Cadanet of what he had done, and that he looked upon it as a loan.”