The mother superior, a woman with a powerful face and a determined air, replied, without embarrassment: 

“That is so, Monsieur le Prefet.  As I had the honour to tell you in my letter, I would have preferred, for obvious reasons, that my name should not be mentioned.  Besides, the delivery of the documents was all that mattered.  However, since you know that I am the writer, I am prepared to answer your questions.”

M. Desmalions continued, with a glance at Florence: 

“I will first ask you, Reverend Mother, if you know this young lady?”

“Yes, Monsieur le Prefet.  Florence was with us for six months as a nurse, a few years ago.  She gave such satisfaction that I was glad to take her back this day fortnight.  As I had read her story in the papers, I simply asked her to change her name.  We had a new staff at the hospital, and it was therefore a safe refuge for her.”

“But, as you have read the papers, you must be aware of the accusations against her?”

“Those accusations have no weight, Monsieur le Prefet, with any one who knows Florence.  She has one of the noblest characters and one of the strictest consciences that I have ever met with.”

The Prefect continued: 

“Let us speak of the documents, Reverend Mother.  Where do they come from?”

“Yesterday, Monsieur le Prefet, I found in my room a communication in which the writer proposed to send me some papers that interested Florence Levasseur—­”

“How did any one know that she was here?” asked M. Desmalions, interrupting her.

“I can’t tell you.  The letter simply said that the papers would be at Versailles, at the poste restante, in my name, on a certain day—­that is to say, this morning.  I was also asked not to mention them to anybody and to hand them at three o’clock this afternoon to Florence Levasseur, with instructions to take them to the Prefect of Police at once.  I was also requested to have a letter conveyed to Sergeant Mazeroux.”

“To Sergeant Mazeroux!  That’s odd.”

“That letter appeared to have to do with the same business.  Now, I am very fond of Florence.  So I sent the letter, and this morning went to Versailles and found the papers there, as stated.  When I got back, Florence was out.  I was not able to hand them to her until her return, at about four o’clock.”

“Where were the papers posted?”

“In Paris.  The postmark on the envelope was that of the Avenue Niel, which happens to be the nearest office to this.”

“And did not the fact of finding that letter in your room strike you as strange?”

“Certainly, Monsieur le Prefet, but no stranger than all the other incidents in the matter.”

“Nevertheless,” continued M. Desmalions, who was watching Florence’s pale face, “nevertheless, when you saw that the instructions which you received came from this house and that they concerned a person living in this house, did you not entertain the idea that that person—­”