by dint of close watching and patient investigation I shall have collected proof sufficient to insure certain conviction, I will unmask the scoundrel." He was radiant. He had at last found the crime, so long looked for, which would make him celebrated. Nothing was wanting, neither the odious circumstances, nor the mystery, nor even the romantic and sentimental element represented by Prosper and Madeleine. Success seemed difficult, almost impossible; but Fanferlot, the Squirrel, had great confidence in his own genius for investigation. Meanwhile, the search upstairs completed, M. Fauvel and the commissary returned to the room where Prosper was waiting for them. The commissary, who had seemed so calm when he first came, now looked grave and perplexed. The moment for taking a decisive part had come, yet it was evident that he hesitated. "You see, gentlemen," he began, "our search has only confirmed our first suspicion." M. Fauvel and Prosper bowed assentingly. "And what do you think, M. Fanferlot?" continued the commissary. Fanferlot did not answer. Occupied in studying the safe-lock, he manifested signs of a lively surprise. Evidently he had just made an important discovery. M. Fauvel, Prosper, and the commissary rose, and surrounded him. "Have you discovered any trace?" said the banker, eagerly. Fanferlot turned around with a vexed air. He reproached himself for not having concealed his impressions. "Oh!" said he, carelessly, "I have discovered nothing of importance." "But we should like to know," said Prosper. "I have merely convinced myself that this safe has been recently opened or shut, I know not which, with great violence and haste." "Why so?" asked the commissary, becoming attentive. "Look, monsieur, at this scratch near the lock." The commissary stooped down, and carefully examined the safe; he saw a light scratch several inches long that had removed the outer coat of varnish."I see the scratch," said he, "but what does that prove?"
"Oh, nothing at all!" said Fanferlot. "I just now told you it was of no importance."
Fanferlot said this, but it was not his real opinion. This scratch, undeniably fresh, had for him a signification that escaped the others. He said to himself, "This confirms my suspicions. If the cashier had stolen millions, there was no occasion for his being in a hurry; whereas the banker, creeping down in the dead of night with cat-like footsteps, for fear of awakening the boy in the ante-room, in order to rifle his own money-safe, had every reason to tremble, to hurry, to hastily withdraw the key, which, slipping along the lock, scratched off the varnish."
Resolved to unravel by himself the tangled thread of this mystery, the detective determined to keep his conjectures to himself; for the same reason he was silent as to 

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