As for me, I had, I am told, a hard face in those days--hardened by weather and a disbelief in human nature which has since been modified.
"It is a responsibility that you take there," said the financier.
"I take no responsibility.

A man of my years, of my retired life, knows little of such matters." (I thought he looked older as he spoke.) "I only tell you what I have done with my small possessions." The Baron shook his head with a sly scepticism.

After all, the cheapest cunning must suffice for money-making, for I dare swear this man had little else.
"But how ?" he said.
"In bank notes, by hand," was the Vicomte's astonishing answer.

And the Baron laughed incredulously.

It seems that the highest aim of the high finance is to catch your neighbour telling the truth by accident.
It would almost be safe to tell the truth always, so rarely is it recognised.
It was not until the Vicomte produced his bankbook and showed the amounts paid in and subsequently withdrawn that the Baron Giraud believed what he had been told.