While he waited at the door, asking himself this question, an idea
flashed into his mind. He would make a last attempt. If Caffie
consented to make the loan he would save himself; if he refused, he
condemned himself.

After several seconds, that appeared like hours, his listening ears
perceived a sound which announced that Caffie was at home. A scratching
of wood on the tiled floor denoted that a chair had been pushed aside;
heavy, dragging steps approached, then the bolt creaked, and the door was
opened cautiously.

"Ah! It is you, my dear sir!" Caffie said, in surprise.

Saniel entered briskly and closed the door himself, pressing it firmly.

"Is there anything new?" Caffie asked, as he led the way to his office.

"No," Saniel replied.

"Well, then?" Caffie asked, as he seated himself in an armchair before
his desk, on which stood a lighted lamp. "I suppose you have come to
hear more about my young friend. This hurry augurs well."

"No, it is not of the young person that I wish to talk to you."

"I am sorry."

On seating himself opposite to Caffie, Saniel had taken out his watch.
Two minutes had passed since he left the vestibule; he must hurry. In
order to keep himself informed of the passing of time, he retained his