“That was why Sergeant Mazeroux’s visit and mine to his house, at nine o’clock in the evening, embarrassed him so obviously.  Who were those intruders?  Would they not succeed in shattering his plan?  Reflection reassured him, even as we, by our insistence, compelled him to give way.”

“After all, what he did care?” asked Perenna.

“His measures were so well taken that no amount of watching could destroy them or even make the watchers aware of them.  What was to happen would happen in our presence and unknown to us.  Death, summoned by him, would do its work....  And the comedy, the tragedy, rather, ran its course.  Mme. Fauville, whom he was sending to the opera, came to say good-night.  Then his servant brought him something to eat, including a dish of apples.  Then followed a fit of rage, the agony of the man who is about to die and who fears death and a whole scene of deceit, in which he showed us his safe and the drab-cloth diary which was supposed to contain the story of the plot. ...  That ended matters.

“Mazeroux and I retired to the hall passage, closing the door after us; and M. Fauville remained alone and free to act.  Nothing now could prevent the fulfilment of his wishes.  At eleven o’clock in the evening, Mme. Fauville—­to whom no doubt, in the course of the day, imitating Sauverand’s handwriting, he had sent a letter—­one of those letters which are always torn up at once, in which Sauverand entreated the poor woman to grant him an interview at the Ranelagh—­Mme. Fauville would leave the opera and, before going to Mme. d’Ersinger’s party, would spend an hour not far from the house.

“On the other hand, Sauverand would be performing his usual Wednesday pilgrimage less than half a mile away, in the opposite direction.  During this time the crime would be committed.

“Both of them would come under the notice of the police, either by M. Fauville’s allusions or by the incident at the Cafe du Pont-Neuf; both of them, moreover, would be incapable either of providing an alibi or of explaining their presence so near the house:  were not both of them bound to be accused and convicted of the crime? ...  In the most unlikely event that some chance should protect them, there was an undeniable proof lying ready to hand in the shape of the apple containing the very marks of Marie Fauville’s teeth!  And then, a few weeks later, the last and decisive trick, the mysterious arrival at intervals of ten days, of the letters denouncing the pair.  So everything was settled.

“The smallest details were foreseen with infernal clearness.  You remember, Monsieur le Prefet, that turquoise which dropped out of my ring and was found in the safe?  There were only four persons who could have seen it and picked it up.  M. Fauville was one of them.  Well, he was just the one, whom we all excepted; and yet it was he who, to cast suspicion upon me and to forestall an interference which he felt would be dangerous, seized the opportunity and placed the turquoise in the safe! ...