“No.  She was evidently lured into a trap.  But how and by whom?  And why does she not say what she was doing?  More mystery.”

“You were seen that evening, the evening of the murders, at Auteuil station.  What were you doing there?”

“I was going to the Boulevard Suchet and I passed under Marie’s windows.  Remember that it was a Wednesday.  I came back on the following Wednesday, and, still knowing nothing of the tragedy or of Marie’s arrest, I came back again on the second Wednesday, which was the evening on which you found out where I lived and informed Sergeant Mazeroux against me.”

“Another thing.  Did you know of the Mornington inheritance?”

“No, nor Florence either; and we have every reason to think that Marie and her husband knew no more about it than we did.”

“That barn at Damigni:  was it the first time that you had entered it?”

“Yes; and our astonishment at the sight of the two skeletons hanging from the rafters equalled yours.”

Don Luis was silent.  He cast about for a few seconds longer to see if he had any more questions to ask.  Then he said: 

“That is all I wanted to know.  Are you, on your side, certain that everything that is necessary has been said?”

“Yes.”

“This is a serious moment.  It is possible that we may not meet again.  Now you have not given me a single proof of your statements.”

“I have told you the truth.  To a man like yourself, the truth is enough.  As for me, I am beaten.  I give up the struggle, or, rather, I place myself under your orders.  Save Marie.”

“I will save the three of you,” said Perenna.  “The fourth of the mysterious letters is to make its appearance to-morrow:  that leaves ample time for us to lay our heads together and study the matter fully.  And to-morrow evening I shall go there and, with the help of all that you have told me, I shall prove the innocence of you all.  The essential thing is to be present at the meeting on the twenty-fifth of May.”

“Please think only of Marie.  Sacrifice me, if necessary.  Sacrifice Florence even.  I am speaking in her name as well as my own when I tell you that it is better to desert us than to jeopardize the slightest chance of success.”

“I will save the three of you,” Perenna repeated.

He pushed the door ajar and, after listening outside, said: 

“Don’t move.  And don’t open the door to anybody, on any pretext whatever, before I come to fetch you.  I shall not be long.”

He locked the door behind him and went down to the first floor.  He did not feel those high spirits which usually cheered him on the eve of his great battles.  This time, Florence Levasseur’s life and liberty were at stake; and the consequences of a defeat seemed to him worse than death.

Through the window on the landing he saw the detectives guarding the courtyard.  He counted six of them.  And he also saw the deputy chief at one of the windows of his study, watching the courtyard and keeping in touch with his detectives.