Jacques Futrelle

“ Smith had uttered. Its effect was electrical upon M. Baudet. “Ah! You have decided to talk?”
Mr. Smith didn’t say.
“Will you admit that you stole the bonds?”
Mr. Smith didn’t say.
“Will you deny it?”
Mr. Smith didn’t say.
“Where have you hidden them?”
Mr. Smith didn’t say.
M. Baudet dropped down at his desk again hopelessly. M. le Marquis, with a malignant grin distorting his pasty face, addressed him.
“This man,” and he pointed at Mr. Smith, “has threatened me. You heard, Monsieur. He is a dangerous man. I demand that he be handcuffed!” ”

“ Clarke is president, and if you’ll inquire of him you’ll find that he had no bonds for me to steal.”
“But how—why—” d’Aubigny stammered. “He was to invest a million and a half dollars in— He was to invest it! He said the bonds had been stolen! So, why—how—”
“I’ll remain here in the jug, Cap,” and, heedless of the bewilderment in Marquis d’Aubigny’s manner, Mr. Smith turned to M. Baudet. “until Mr. Clarke is able to speak for himself. If he tells you there were no bonds to be stolen, that ends it, doesn’t it?” ”

“ Smith submitted gracefully to a search. The bonds should have been on his person; M. Baudet had said it. They should have been on his person, because no man in his senses would leave seven and a half million francs knocking about his room. But they were not on his person. Upon discovery of this fact, M. Baudet had despatched two of his men to the Maison de Treville to search Mr. Smith’s room.
“I am informed,” he told them, “that there are one hundred and fifty of these bonds, in denominations of ten thousand dollars each. They should make a package four or five inches thick. ”