"If he has not left Paris with these stolen thirty-five thousand francs, we shall find him, and the thanks will be yours," he said. "I am happy to be able to do anything for you." The agent was going, but he thought better of it. "You said that you had made three suits of this cloth?" "Yes, but there is only this Fritzner who counts. The two others are honest men, well known in the quarter, and they paid me honestly." "Since they have no cause for alarm, you need have no scruples in naming them. It is not in the name of justice that I ask their names, but for myself. --They will look well in my report and will prove that I pushed my investigations thoroughly." "One is a merchant in the Rue Truffant, and is called Monsieur Blanchet; the other is a young man just arrived from America, and his name is Monsieur Florentin Cormier." "You say Florentin Cormier?" the agent asked, who remembered this name was that of one who had seen Caffie on the day of the crime. "Do you know him?" "Not exactly; it is the first time that I have made clothes for him. But I know his mother and sister, who have lived in the Rue des Moines five or six years at least; good, honest people, who work hard and have no debts." The next morning about ten o'clock, a short time after Phillis's departure, Florentin, who was reading the newspaper in the dining-room, while his mother prepared the breakfast, heard stealthy steps that stopped on the landing before their door. His ear was too familiar with the ordinary sounds in the house to be deceived; there was in these steps a hesitation or a precaution which evidently betrayed a stranger, and with the few connections they had, a stranger was surely an enemy--the one whom he expected. A ring of the doorbell, given by a firm hand, made him jump from his chair. He did not hesitate; slowly, and with an air of indifference, he opened the door. He saw before him a man of about forty years, with a polite and shrewd face, dressed in a short coat, and wearing a flat hat. "Monsieur Florentin Cormier?" "I am he." And he asked him to come in. "The judge desires to see you at his office." Madame Cormier came from the kitchen in time to hear these few words, and if Florentin had not motioned to her to be silent, she would have betrayed herself. The words on her lips were: "You came to arrest my son!" They would have escaped her, but she crushed them back. "And can you tell me for what affair the judge summons me?" Florentin asked, steadying his voice. "For the Caffie affair." "And at what hour should I present myself before the judge?" "Immediately." "But my son has not breakfasted!" Madame Cormier exclaimed. "At least, take something before going, my dear child." "It is not worth while." He made a sign to her that she should not insist. His throat was too tight to swallow a piece of bread, and it was important that he should not betray his emotion before this agent. "I am ready," he said.