Closely following the cashier, he seated himself in a dark corner of the
room, and, pretending to be sleepy, he fixed himself in a comfortable
position for taking a nap, gaped until his jaw-bone seemed about to be
dislocated, then closed his eyes, and kept perfectly quiet.

Prosper took a seat at the desk of an absent clerk. The others were
burning to know the result of the investigation; their eyes shone with
curiosity, but they dared not ask a question.

Unable to refrain himself any longer, little Cavaillon, Prosper's
defender, ventured to say:

"Well, who stole the money?"

Prosper shrugged his shoulders.

"Nobody knows," he replied.

Was this conscious innocence or hardened recklessness? The clerks
observed with bewildered surprise that Prosper had resumed his usual
manner, that sort of icy haughtiness that kept people at a distance, and
made him so unpopular in the bank.

Save the death-like pallor of his face, and the dark circles around
his swollen eyes, he bore no traces of the pitiable agitation he had
exhibited a short time before.

Never would a stranger entering the room have supposed that this young
man idly lounging in a chair, and toying with a pencil, was resting