“That is to say, carried off twenty-five thousand francs.”
“Who, pray?”
“Monsieur Destival.”
“Yes, monsieur; he’s gone away, left France, so I am told. That is what I had the honor to come to tell you.”
Auguste understood now too well; he was overwhelmed. Bertrand walked up to Monin, shouting:
“What’s that you say? Damnation! Is it possible that that Monsieur Destival——”
“Ah! Monsieur Bertrand! How’s the state of your health?”
“He has gone—with our two hundred and fifty thousand francs!”
“Just so. You know you taught him to drill.”