Suzanne was a pretty girl, with a gay and affectionate nature. She threw her arms around her father’s neck and kissed him rapturously. To her, the desk had all the semblance of a royal gift. That evening, assisted by Hortense, the servant, she placed the desk in her room; then she dusted it, cleaned the drawers and pigeon-holes, and carefully arranged within it her papers, writing material, correspondence, a collection of post-cards, and some souvenirs of her cousin Philippe that she kept in secret. Next morning, at half past seven, Mon. Gerbois went to the college. At ten o’clock, in pursuance of her usual custom, Suzanne went to meet him, and it was a great pleasure for him to see her slender figure and childish smile waiting for him at the college gate. They returned home together. “And your writing desk—how is it this morning?” “Marvellous! Hortense and I have polished the brass mountings until they look like gold.” “So you are pleased with it?” “Pleased with it! Why, I don’t see how I managed to get on without it for such a long time.” As they were walking up the pathway to the house, Mon. Gerbois said: “Shall we go and take a look at it before breakfast?” “Oh! yes, that’s a splendid idea!” She ascended the stairs ahead of her father, but, on arriving at the door of her room, she uttered a cry of surprise and dismay. “What’s the matter?” stammered Mon. Gerbois. “The writing-desk is gone!” When the police were called in, they were astonished at the admirable simplicity of the means employed by the thief. During Suzanne’s absence, the servant had gone to market, and while the house was thus left unguarded, a drayman, wearing a badge—some of the neighbors saw it—stopped his cart in front of the house and rang twice. Not knowing that Hortense was absent, the neighbors were not suspicious; consequently, the man carried on his work in peace and tranquility. Apart from the desk, not a thing in the house had been disturbed. Even Suzanne’s purse, which she had left upon the writing-desk, was found upon an adjacent table with its contents untouched. It was obvious that the thief had come with a set purpose, which rendered the crime even more mysterious; because, why did he assume so great a risk for such a trifling object? The only clue the professor could furnish was the strange incident of the preceding evening. He declared: “The young man was greatly provoked at my refusal, and I had an idea that he threatened me as he went away.” But the clue was a vague one. The shopkeeper could not throw any light on the affair. He did not know either of the gentlemen. As to the desk itself, he had purchased it for forty francs at an executor’s sale at Chevreuse, and believed he had resold it at its fair value. The police investigation disclosed nothing more.