Mr. Frasne took up the letter and the contract again, this time not to sound the depths of his misery, but to search for some plan of vengeance. The clerks would be invading the office before long. Before they came he must decide on his inquiry, and prepare to forge his arms. The money that Edith had taken away, that she had stolen really, for a gift between betrothed persons would in all cases be annulled in consequence of a divorce pronounced against the giver, she must have taken from the safe. He had recently deposited there the proceeds of a one hundred and twenty thousand francs sale of land, a sum which was to be turned over in a few days, or as soon as the deed was ready to be executed. He had indiscreetly spoken of it, and she might have learned of it from him. A key can be made or stolen, but how had she discovered the mysterious combination of figures without which this key to the safe was useless?
He rose and went up to the safe, which bore no trace of any breakage. He felt in his pocket and took out his bunch of keys. Then he perceived that this one key was missing. It must have been extracted the very day of his departure. He had a duplicate, it is true, and had confided the other, according to his habit, to his head clerk during his absence. He would wait till the arrival of the clerk, who could open and verify the contents of the safe, and at the same time serve as a witness.
Returning to his work-table, he found a penal code and began to run through the paragraphs under the title of crimes and misdemeanours against property. He read in Article 380 that abstractions made by husbands to the injury of their wives, and by wives against their husbands, can only give rise to civil actions. But the end of this same paragraph that disarmed him against the faithless woman armed him against her accomplice:
With respect to all other individuals who shall receive or apply to their own profit all or any part of the objects stolen, they shall be punished as if guilty of theft.
Started on this scent, he found things better still. Article 408, which treated of the abuse of confidence, gave it as an aggravating circumstance when the theft was committed by a public or administrative officer, by a domestic servant, a man under employment for wages, a student, clerk, commissioner, workman, companion or apprentice, to the injury of his master; and the penalty in such cases was imprisonment. What was to prevent him from accusing Maurice Roquevillard, and him alone? Was it not all probable and likely? The young man knew the premises, the payments made through the office, the dates of contracts, the absence of his chief. He could have discovered the secret of the lock, have extracted the key for a moment from the hands of the head clerk. With no fortune of his own, he must have had to supply himself with funds to carry off his mistress. Finally, did not his flight to foreign territory condemn him? Of course, the statement made by Mrs. Frasne expressly contradicted this version of the case, but Mrs. Frasne’s declaration, ineffective against herself, though awkward for her lover, could well enough be suppressed. This declaration out of the way, nothing could make the latter appear innocent again. He would even be without any grounds of defence: for to defend himself, would he not have to turn against his mistress, admitting at last that they had both been supported by the funds that she had taken? A man of honour could not do this. Maurice’s conviction was, therefore, certain. Extradition would put an end to his amorous flight. He would have to appear at the assizes. Branded, overthrown and broken, he would expiate their fault for both the culprits. And finally, his family, to make atonement for his fault, would perhaps restore the sum that had been taken away. Thus the disaster would at least result in no material loss. And already the material loss began to seem not negligible to Mr. Frasne, the more so as he reflected further upon it.
The more he explored in all its aspects a combination so rich in inference, and traced all its possibilities to the end, the more he felt his despair grow lighter. He forgot his sorrow in preparing a fine punishment for his rival. He considered pitilessly the remotest consequences of his revenge, not least of them the abasement of the haughty Roquevillards, and this despite the fact that as Mr. Clairval’s successor he had been received by them as a friend. In his unhappiness he hurled his sufferings like curses in the face of the whole world. For a last time he read this letter, the only source of difficulty to his plan: then, his mind made up, he threw it in the fire and watched it twist and blacken into ashes.
Nine o’clock struck.
Punctually the clerks arrived at the office, one by one, and took their places at their desks. Their chief stepped at once to the door leading from his own room into the office, and, without any salutations, began to question the head clerk in a preoccupied manner.
“Philippeaux, I can’t find the key of the safe.”
“Why, here it is, sir,” replied the clerk. “You handed it to me to take care of while you were away. I have not used it.”