“And the drawer was not forced?”

Maitre Lepertuis seemed taken aback and made no reply.

“Well?” asked Perenna.

“Well, yes, I remember ... there was something that day ... that same Friday.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.  When I came in from lunch I noticed that the drawer was not locked, although I had locked it beyond the least doubt.  At the time I attached comparatively little importance to the incident.  To-day, I understand, I understand—­”

Thus, little by little, were all the suppositions conceived by Don Luis verified:  suppositions resting, it is true, upon just one or two clues, but yet containing an amount of intuition, of divination, that was really surprising in a man who had been present at none of the events between which he traced the connection so skilfully.

“We will lose no time, Monsieur,” said the Prefect of Police, “in checking your statements, which you will confess to be a little venturesome, by the more positive evidence of one of my detectives who has the case in charge ... and who ought to be here by now.”

“Does his evidence bear upon Cosmo Mornington’s heirs?” asked the solicitor.

“Upon the heirs principally, because two days ago he telephoned to me that he had collected all the particulars, and also upon the very points which—­But wait:  I remember that he spoke to my secretary of a murder committed a month ago to-day....  Now it’s a month to-day since Mr. Cosmo Mornington—­”

M. Desmalions pressed hard on a bell.  His private secretary at once appeared.

“Inspector Verot?” asked the Prefect sharply.

“He’s not back yet.”

“Have him fetched!  Have him brought here!  He must be found at all costs and without delay.”

He turned to Don Luis Perenna.

“Inspector Verot was here an hour ago, feeling rather unwell, very much excited, it seems, and declaring that he was being watched and followed.  He said he wanted to make a most important statement to me about the Mornington case and to warn the police of two murders which are to be committed to-night ... and which would be a consequence of the murder of Cosmo Mornington.”

“And he was unwell, you say?”

“Yes, ill at ease and even very queer and imagining things.  By way of being prudent, he left a detailed report on the case for me.  Well, the report is simply a blank sheet of letter-paper.

“Here is the paper and the envelope in which I found it, and here is a cardboard box which he also left behind him.  It contains a cake of chocolate with the marks of teeth on it.”

“May I look at the two things you have mentioned, Monsieur le Prefet?”

“Yes, but they won’t tell you anything.”

“Perhaps so—­”

Don Luis examined at length the cardboard box and the yellow envelope, on which were printed the words, “Cafe du Pont-Neuf.”  The others awaited his words as though they were bound to shed an unexpected light.  He merely said: