“One hundred thousand francs!” cried Leo. “It’s quite a figure.”
And Charles Marcellaz protested at once:
“But it’s as much as to admit that Maurice did wrong. He pays the money back, therefore he was guilty of taking it.”
“No, not that. The man who goes bail for a debtor isn’t that debtor. Through his lawyer Maurice will explain to the jurors that, although he isn’t willing to accuse anybody, he intends to be beyond suspicion himself. If Mr. Frasne is reimbursed, there is no more theft. To leave Mr. Frasne uncovered is, I suspect, to free my son.”
“Good, Francis,” approved Uncle Stephen, shaking his head like a great bald bird.
This mark of esteem decided the widow upon a friendly demonstration.
“I don’t understand all these tricks very well,” she said, “but good repute is worth more than golden girdles, and my heart is with you, Francis.”
Her son was only reassured by the word “heart,” which committed one to nothing. He exchanged a look with young Charles Marcellaz which signified, “These old people treat money with a high hand; as if there were anything else that gives a family importance or a chance to grow.” Feeling that he was supported on this question, Charles inquired softly:
“One hundred thousand francs—can you pay back that much, father?”
“That’s another question,” replied Mr. Roquevillard, a little dryly, beginning to grow a bit weary of these preliminaries. “I shall come to that presently. First the principles, then the means of applying them.”