"We must have an explanation," he said. "Let us go into your office."

The cashier mechanically obeyed without a word; and his chief followed
him, taking the precaution to close the door after him.

The cash-room bore no evidences of a successful burglary. Everything was
in perfect order; not even a paper was misplaced.

The safe was open, and on the top shelf lay several rouleaus of gold,
overlooked or disdained by the thieves.

M. Fauvel, without troubling himself to examine anything, took a seat,
and ordered his cashier to do the same. He had entirely recovered his
equanimity, and his countenance wore its usual kind expression.

"Now that we are alone, Prosper," he said, "have you nothing to tell
me?"

The cashier started, as if surprised at the question. "Nothing,
monsieur, that I have not already told you."

"What, nothing? Do you persist in asserting a fable so absurd and
ridiculous that no one can possibly believe it? It is folly! Confide in
me: it is your only chance of salvation. I am your employer, it is true;
but I am before and above all your friend, your best and truest friend.
I cannot forget that in this very room, fifteen years ago, you were
intrusted to me by your father; and ever since that day have I had cause
to congratulate myself on possessing so faithful and efficient a
clerk. Yes, it is fifteen years since you came to me. I was then just
commencing the foundation of my fortune. You have seen it gradually