“You mean, her memory?”

“Yes, it might come back.”

“Of course,” agreed the other with judicial fairness.  “I asked Duprat about it and he said it might.”

“Ah, you see!”

“And—­when do you—­begin?”

“There’s no hurry.  When we get through talking.  Is there anything else you want to ask?”

The detective reflected a moment.  “Was it you personally who killed my dog?”

“Yes.”

“And my mother?” His face was very white and his voice trembled.  “Did you—­did you intend to kill her?”

The baron shrugged his shoulders.  “I left that to chance.”

“That’s all,” said Coquenil.  “I—­I am ready now.”

With a look of mingled compassion and admiration De Heidelmann-Bruck met M. Paul’s unflinching gaze.

“We take our medicine, eh?  I took mine when you had me hitched to that heart machine, and—­now you’ll take yours.  Good-by, Coquenil,” he held out his hand, “I’m sorry.”

“Good-by,” answered the detective with quiet dignity.  “If it’s all the same to you, I—­I won’t shake hands.”

“No?  Ah, well!  I’ll send in the girl.”  He moved toward the heavy door.

“Wait!” said M. Paul.  “You have left your diary.”  He pointed to the table.

The baron smiled mockingly.  “I intended to leave it; the book has served its purpose, I’m tired of it.  Don’t be alarmed, it will not be found.”  He glanced with grim confidence at the stacked wood.  “You’ll have fifteen or twenty minutes after she comes in, that is, if you make no disturbance.  Good-by.”

The door swung open and a moment later Coquenil saw a dim, white-clad figure among the shadows, and Alice, with beautiful, frightened eyes, staggered toward him.  Then the door clanged shut and the sound of grating bolts was heard on the other side.

Alice and Coquenil were alone.

CHAPTER XXIX

THE LOST DOLLY

As Alice saw M. Paul she ran forward with a glad cry and clung to his arm.

“I’ve been so frightened,” she trembled.  “The man said you wanted me and I came at once, but, in the automobile, I felt something was wrong and—­you know he is outside?” Her eyes widened anxiously.

“I know.  Sit down here.”  He pointed to the table.  “Does Pougeot know about this?”

She shook her head.  “The man came for M. Pougeot first.  I wasn’t down at breakfast yet, so I don’t know what he said, but they went off together.  I’m afraid it was a trick.  Then about twenty minutes later the same man came back and said M. Pougeot was with you and that he had been sent to bring me to you.  He showed me your ring and——­”

“Yes, yes, I understand,” interrupted Coquenil.  “You are not to blame, only—­God, what can I do?” He searched the shadows with a savage sense of helplessness.

“But it’s all right, now, M. Paul,” she said confidently, “I am with you.”