[Old Poiret junior promptly inserted the said key between Sebastien’s shoulders, while Phellion gave him some water to drink. The poor lad no sooner opened his eyes than he began to weep. He laid his head on Phellion’s desk, and all his limbs were limp as if struck by lightning; while his sobs were so heartrending, so genuine, that for the first time in his life Poiret’s feelings were stirred by the sufferings of another.] Phellion [speaking firmly]. “Come, come, my young friend; courage! In times of trial we must show courage. You are a man. What is the matter? What has happened to distress you so terribly?” Sebastien [sobbing]. “It is I who have ruined Monsieur Rabourdin. I left that paper lying about when I copied it. I have killed my benefactor; I shall die myself. Such a noble man!--a man who ought to be minister!” Poiret [blowing his nose]. “Then it is true he wrote the report.” Sebastien [still sobbing]. “But it was to--there, I was going to tell his secrets! Ah! that wretch of a Dutocq; it was he who stole the paper.” His tears and sobs recommenced and made so much noise that Rabourdin came up to see what was the matter. He found the young fellow almost fainting in the arms of Poiret and Phellion. Rabourdin. “What is the matter, gentlemen?” Sebastien [struggling to his feet, and then falling on his knees before Rabourdin]. “I have ruined you, monsieur. That memorandum,--Dutocq, the monster, he must have taken it.” Rabourdin [calmly]. “I knew that already” [he lifts Sebastien]. “You are a child, my young friend.” [Speaks to Phellion.] “Where are the other gentlemen?” Phellion. “They have gone into Monsieur Baudoyer’s office to see a paper which it is said--” Rabourdin [interrupting him]. “Enough.” [Goes out, taking Sebastien with him. Poiret and Phellion look at each other in amazement, and do not know what to say.] Poiret [to Phellion]. “Monsieur Rabourdin--” Phellion [to Poiret]. “Monsieur Rabourdin--” Poiret. “Well, I never! Monsieur Rabourdin!” Phellion. “But did you notice how calm and dignified he was?” Poiret [with a sly look that was more like a grimace]. “I shouldn’t be surprised if there were something under it all.” Phellion. “A man of honor; pure and spotless.” Poiret. “Who is?” Phellion. “Monsieur Poiret, you think as I think about Dutocq; surely you understand me?” Poiret [nodding his head three times and answering with a shrewd look]. “Yes.” [The other clerks return.] Fleury. “A great shock; I still don’t believe the thing. Monsieur Rabourdin, a king among men! If such men are spies, it is enough to disgust one with virtue. I have always put Rabourdin among Plutarch’s heroes.” Vimeux. “It is all true.” Poiret [reflecting that he had only five days more to stay in the office]. “But, gentlemen, what do you say about the man who stole that paper, who spied upon Rabourdin?” [Dutocq left the room.] Fleury. “I say he is a Judas Iscariot. Who is he?”