which remains to this day in our legal phraseology, explains the old
word torconnier, which we often find spelt "tortionneur." The poor
young orphan devoted himself carefully to the affairs of the old
Fleming, pleased him much, and was soon high in his good graces.
During a winter's night, certain diamonds deposited with Maitre
Cornelius by the King of England as security for a sum of a hundred
thousand crowns were stolen, and suspicion, of course, fell on the
orphan. Louis XI. was all the more severe because he had answered for
the youth's fidelity. After a very brief and summary examination by
the grand provost, the unfortunate secretary was hanged. After that no
one dared for a long time to learn the arts of banking and exchange
from Maitre Cornelius.

In course of time, however, two young men of the town, Touraineans,
--men of honor, and eager to make their fortunes,--took service with
the silversmith. Robberies coincided with the admission of the two
young men into the house. The circumstances of these crimes, the manner
in which they were perpetrated, showed plainly that the robbers had
secret communication with its inmates. Become by this time more than
ever suspicious and vindictive, the old Fleming laid the matter before
Louis XI., who placed it in the hands of his grand provost. A trial
was promptly had and promptly ended. The inhabitants of Tours blamed
Tristan l'Hermite secretly for unseemly haste. Guilty or not guilty,
the young Touraineans were looked upon as victims, and Cornelius as an
executioner. The two families thus thrown into mourning were much
respected; their complaints obtained a hearing, and little by little
it came to be believed that all the victims whom the king's
silversmith had sent to the scaffold were innocent. Some persons
declared that the cruel miser imitated the king, and sought to put
terror and gibbets between himself and his fellow-men; others said