Madame Desvarennes motioned to him to leave her, and the banker appeared
on the threshold.

At a glance the mistress saw the ravages which the terrible night he had
passed through had caused. Yesterday, the banker was rosy, firm, and
upright as an oak, now he was bent, and withered like an old man. His
hair had become gray about the temples, as if scorched by his burning
thoughts. He was only the shadow of himself.

Madame Desvarennes advanced toward him, and in one word asked a world of
questions.

"Well?" she said.

Cayrol, gloomy and fierce, raised his eyes to the mistress, and answered:

"Nothing!"

"Did he not come?"

"Yes, he came. But I had not the necessary energy to kill him. I thought
it was an easier matter to become a murderer. And you thought so too,
eh?"

"Cayrol!" cried Madame Desvarennes, shuddering, and troubled to find that
she had been so easily understood by him whom she had armed on her
behalf.

"The opportunity was a rare one, though," continued Cayrol, getting
excited. "Fancy; I found them together under my own roof. The law allowed