In a few days Paris is startled. Cassier has fled, and robbed his
creditors of a million francs.





Chapter X.
On the Trail.




Evening has fallen over the city, and the busy turmoil of the streets
had ceased; the laborer had repaired to his family, the wealthy had
gone to their suburban villas, and licentious youth had sought the
amusements over which darkness draws its veil. Politicians,
newsmongers, and travellers made the cafe salons ring with their
animated discussions. The policy of the Prime Minister, the
probabilities of war, the royal sports of Versailles, and daring deeds
of crime gathered from the police reports were inexhaustive topics for
debate.

In one of the popular cafes there was a small gathering of men
threatening vengeance on the delinquent Cassier; they had more or less
suffered from his robbery, and they listened with avidity to every
rumor that might lead to the probability of his capture. Amongst them
there was an aged man of grayish beard, who was particularly loud and
zealous in his condemnation of the dishonest banker. He railed against
the Government, which, he said, was priest-ridden under the whip of