she committed the terrible crime which has caused such a sensation in London.  Her movements upon the Monday night have not yet been traced, but it is undoubted that a woman answering to her description attracted much attention at Charing Cross Station on Tuesday morning by the wildness of her appearance and the violence of her gestures.  It is probable, therefore, that the crime was either committed when insane, or that its immediate effect was to drive the unhappy woman out of her mind.  At present she is unable to give any coherent account of the past, and the doctors hold out no hopes of the reestablishment of her reason.  There is evidence that a woman, who might have been Mme. Fournaye, was seen for some hours upon Monday night watching the house in Godolphin Street.

“What do you think of that, Holmes?” I had read the account aloud to him, while he finished his breakfast.

“My dear Watson,” said he, as he rose from the table and paced up and down the room, “You are most long-suffering, but if I have told you nothing in the last three days, it is because there is nothing to tell.  Even now this report from Paris does not help us much.”

“Surely it is final as regards the man’s death.”

“The man’s death is a mere incident—­a trivial episode—­in comparison with our real task, which is to trace this document and save a European catastrophe.  Only one important thing has happened in the last three days, and that is that nothing has happened.  I get reports almost hourly from the government, and it is certain that nowhere in Europe is there any sign of trouble.  Now, if this letter were loose—­no, it can’t be loose—­but if it isn’t loose, where can it be?  Who has it?  Why is it held back?  That’s the question that beats in my brain like a hammer.  Was it, indeed, a coincidence that Lucas should meet his death on the night when the letter disappeared?  Did the letter ever reach him?  If so, why is it not among his papers?  Did this mad wife of his carry it off with her?  If so, is it in her house in Paris?  How could I search for it without the French police having their suspicions aroused?  It is a case, my dear Watson, where the law is as dangerous to us as the criminals are.  Every man’s hand is against us, and yet the interests at stake are colossal.  Should I bring it to a successful conclusion, it will certainly represent the crowning glory of my career.  Ah, here is my latest from the front!” He glanced hurriedly at the note which had been handed in.  “Halloa!  Lestrade seems to have observed something of interest.  Put on your hat, Watson, and we will stroll down together to Westminster.”