M. Fortunat sprang from his chair with a livid face and trembling
lips. "Stricken with apoplexy!" he exclaimed in a husky voice.
"I am ruined!"

Then, fearing Madame Dodelin's curiosity, he seized the lamp and
rushed into his office, crying to Chupin: "Follow me."

Chupin obeyed without a word, for he was a shrewd fellow, and knew
how to make the best of a trying situation. He was not usually
allowed to enter this private room, the floor of which was covered
with a magnificent carpet; and so, after carefully closing the
door, he remained standing, hat in hand, and looking somewhat
intimidated. But M. Fortunat seemed to have forgotten his
presence. After depositing the lamp on the mantel-shelf, he
walked several times round and round the room like a hunted beast
seeking for some means of egress.

"If the count is dead," he muttered, "the Marquis de Valorsay is
lost! Farewell to the millions!"

The blow was so cruel, and so entirely unexpected, that he could
not, would not believe in its reality. He walked straight to
Chupin, and caught him by the collar, as if the young fellow had
been the cause of this misfortune. "It isn't possible," said he;
"the count CANNOT be dead. You are deceiving me, or they deceived
you. You must have misunderstood--you only wished to give some
excuse for your delay perhaps. Speak, say something!"

As a rule, Chupin was not easily impressed, but he felt almost
frightened by his employer's agitation. "I only repeated what M.