“Mercy, mercy!” cried the criminal, falling upon his knees. {131}
“How long have you been robbing me?” asked the Count, sternly.
“For nearly two years.”
“And how much have you taken?”
“I cannot tell exactly. Perhaps 15,000 francs, or thereabouts.”
“We will call it 15,000 francs. You may keep the rest. What have you done with the money?”
“I have invested it in Government stock. The scrip is in my desk.”
The thief yielded up the securities to the amount of fifteen thousand francs, and wrote a confession of his guilt, which he signed in the presence of a witness. The kind-hearted nobleman, bidding the valet repent of his crime, forthwith dismissed him from his employ, agreeing not to prosecute him provided he led an honest life. One year from that date, the wretched Bernard died. Remorse hastened his end.
M. de l’Escalopier took the money thus recovered to Houdin, saying: “I do hope, my dear friend, that you will no longer refuse me the pleasure of lending you this sum, which I owe entirely to your ingenuity and mechanical skill. Take it, return it to me just when you like, with the understanding that it is to be repaid only out of the profits of your theatre.”
Overcome by emotion at the generosity of his benefactor, Houdin embraced the Count. “This embrace,” he says, “was the only security which M. de l’Escalopier would accept from me.”