“Well,” said Johnny, “I wish I had!”
Count D’Orsay’s conscience was not quite easy in regard to the manner in which he had persecuted the two friendless American boys. His suspicions had been aroused merely by the fact that they were about to leave Strasbourg; and the discovery of the missing articles in their possession had seemed at the time to prove their guilt conclusively. But upon reflection, the honest surprise expressed in little Johnny’s eyes, and Eric’s look of proud, indignant disdain, haunted him with suggestions of their innocence.
Might it not have been just possible that they did find the ring upon the floor, and did not know of the money’s concealment? But, then—how could it be so? How could the ring and money have happened in their room, and for what purposes? Yet, again, if they did intend to steal, they had given up everything. He had lost nothing; and the French government would not thank him for quarrelling with an American just at that time. He would send word to the landlord to dismiss the policeman and let the boys have their liberty.
Just as this conclusion was reached, there came a tap at the door, and the waiter entered with Mr. Lacelle’s card, followed closely by Mr. Lacelle.
Count D’Orsay expressed great pleasure at the unexpected visit; but Mr. Lacelle, waiving all ceremony, explained that he had come to clear his dear American friends from the disgraceful charge against them.
He then spoke rapidly, in French, to the count, who appeared at first surprised, then credulous, then convinced.
With sincere regret, he asked to be allowed to apologize at once, and begged Mr. Lacelle to tell him of some way in which he could make some amends for his unjust accusation.
“I wish you to be thoroughly convinced,” said Mr. Lacelle. “Place the articles upon the table, open the window, and conceal yourself behind the curtain.”
Mr. Lacelle did so.