It was the rough account of his investments and profits he remembered making for his father-in-law. He had cast it unheeded into the waste-paper basket, whence it had, no doubt, been recovered by those who had spied upon him and placed with the reports as evidence against him.
"You admit making that calculation?" asked Bézard severely. "Those figures are, I believe, in your handwriting?"
"Yes; but I have had nothing to do with any forgers of banknotes," declared the unhappy man, reseating himself.
"Ah! Then you admit making the calculation? That in itself is sufficient for the present. However, cannot you give us some explanation of that secret visit of yours to Thillot? Remember, you have to prove your innocence!"
"I—I cannot—not, at least, at present," faltered the prisoner.
"You refuse?"
"Yes, m'sieur, I flatly refuse," was the hoarse reply. "As I have told you, that visit concerned the honour of a woman."
The men again exchanged glances of disbelief, while the victim of those dastardly allegations sat breathless, amazed at the astounding manner in which his most innocent actions had been misconstrued into incriminating evidence.
He was under arrest as one who had placed forged English banknotes in circulation in France!