“Tantaine,” resumed Mascarin, “is the best and kindest fellow in the world, but he is not quite right in the upper story. He was a wealthy man once, but his liberality was his ruin. He is as poor as a church-mouse now, but he is as anxious as ever to be charitable. Unfortunately in the place I procured for him he had a certain amount of petty cash at his disposal, and moved to pity at the sight of your sufferings, he gave you the money that really belonged to others. Then he sent in his accounts, and the deficiency was discovered. He lost his head, and declared that he had been robbed. You lived in the next room; you were known to be in abject poverty on the one day and in ample funds on the next; hence these suspicions.” All was too clear to Paul, and a cold shiver ran through his frame as he saw himself arrested, tried, and condemned. “But,” stammered he, “M. Tantaine holds my note of hand, which is a proof that I acted honestly.” “My poor boy, do you think that if he hoped to save himself at your expense he would produce it?” “Luckily, sir, you know the real state of the case.” Mascarin shook is head. “Would my story be credited?” asked he. “Justice is not infallible, and I must confess that appearances are against you.” Paul was crushed down beneath this weight of argument. “There is no resource for me then but death,” murmured he, “for I will not live a dishonored man.” The conduct of Paul was precisely what Mascarin had expected, and he felt that the moment had arrived to strike a final blow. “You must not give way to despair, my boy,” said he. But Paul made no reply; he had lost the power of hearing. Mascarin, however, had no time to lose, and taking him by the arm, shook him roughly. “Rouse yourself. A man in your position must help himself, and bring forward proofs of his innocence.” “There is no use in fighting,” replied Paul. “Have you not just shown me that it is hopeless to endeavor to prove my innocence?” Mascarin grew impatient at this unnecessary exhibition of cowardice, but he concealed his feelings as best he could. “No, no,” answered he; “I only wished to show you the worst side of the affair.” “There is only one side.” “Not so, for it is only a supposition that Tantaine had made away with money entrusted to him, and we are not certain of it. And we only surmise that he has been arrested, and thrown the blame on you. Before giving up the game, would it not be best to be satisfied on these points?” Paul felt a little reassured. “I say nothing,” continued Mascarin, “of the influence I exercise over Tantaine, and which may enable me to compel him to confess the truth.” Weak natures like Paul’s are raised in a moment from the lowest depths of depression to the highest pitch of exultation, and he already considered that he was saved. “Shall I ever be able to prove my gratitude to you?” said he impulsively. Mascarin’s face assumed a paternal expression.