Cornélius hurried into his strong room. The King, bidding him make a fresh footprint by the side of those already visible, convinced him that the thief was none other than himself.
"The pearl necklace is missing!" cried Cornélius. "There is witchcraft in this. I have not left my room."
"We will find out about that at once," said the King, puzzled by the goldsmith's evident good faith.
He called the men of the watch into his room and asked them:
"Marry now, what did you see in the night?"
"Ah, Sire! a magical sight!" replied the lieutenant. "Your Majesty's treasurer stealing downstairs close to the wall, and so nimbly that at first we took him for a spectre."
"I!" cried Cornélius, who then stood silent and motionless as a paralyzed creature.
"You may go, all of you," said Louis, addressing the bowmen, "and tell Monsieur Conyngham, Coyctier, Bridoré, and Tristan that they may get out of bed and come here. You have incurred pain of death," said Louis, coldly, to the miser, who, happily, did not hear him, "for you have at least ten on your soul!"
The King laughed, a grim, noiseless laugh, and paused.
"But be easy," he went on, as he noticed the strange pallor that overspread the old man's face; "you are better to bleed than to kill. And in consideration of a handsome fine, paid into my coffers, you may escape the clutches of justice; but if you do not build at least a chapel to the Virgin, you are in jeopardy of finding warm and anxious work before you for all eternity."