“Are all those persons to take part in the inquiry?” he said to the king.
Louis XI. could not help smiling as he saw the fright of the miser and his sister.
“No, my old crony,” he said; “don’t worry yourself. They will sup at Plessis, and you and I alone will make the investigation. I am so good in detecting criminals, that I will wager you ten thousand crowns I shall do so now.”
“Find him, sire, and make no wager.”
They went at once into the strong room, where the Fleming kept his treasure. There Louis, who asked to see, in the first place, the casket from which the jewels of the Duke of Burgundy had been taken, then the chimney down which the robber was supposed to have descended, easily convinced his silversmith of the falsity of the latter supposition, inasmuch as there was no soot on the hearth,—where, in truth, a fire was seldom made,—and no sign that any one had passed down the flue; and moreover that the chimney issued at a part of the roof which was almost inaccessible. At last, after two hours of close investigation, marked with that sagacity which distinguished the suspicious mind of Louis XI., it was clear to him, beyond all doubt, that no one had forced an entrance into the strong-room of his silversmith. No marks of violence were on the locks, nor on the iron coffers which contained the gold, silver, and jewels deposited as securities by wealthy debtors.
“If the robber opened this box,” said the king, “why did he take nothing out of it but the jewels of the Duke of Bavaria? What reason had he for leaving that pearl necklace which lay beside them? A queer robber!”
At that remark the unhappy miser turned pale: he and the king looked at each other for a moment.
“Then, sire, what did that robber whom you have taken under your protection come to do here, and why did he prowl about at night?”
“If you have not guessed why, my crony, I order you to remain in ignorance. That is one of my secrets.”
“Then the devil is in my house!” cried the miser, piteously.