“Yes ...  I know ... most important.  That’s what I’m here for.  But I should have liked to see him first.  I should so much have liked to see him!”

The secretary stared at Verot and said: 

“What a state you’re in!  Is your message so urgent as all that?”

“It’s very urgent, indeed.  It has to do with a crime that took place a month ago, to the day.  And, above all, it’s a matter of preventing two murders which are the outcome of that other crime and which are to be committed to-night.  Yes, to-night, inevitably, unless we take the necessary steps.”

“Sit down, Verot, won’t you?”

“You see, the whole thing has been planned in such an infernal manner!  You would never have imagined—­”

“Still, Verot, as you know about it beforehand, and as Monsieur le Prefet is sure to give you full powers—­”

“Yes, of course, of course.  But, all the same, it’s terrible to think that I might miss him.  So I wrote him this letter, telling him all I know about the business.  I thought it safer.”

He handed the secretary a large yellow envelope and added: 

“And here’s a little box as well; I’ll leave it on this table.  It contains something that will serve to complete and explain the contents of the letter.”

“But why don’t you keep all that by you?”

“I’m afraid to.  They’re watching me.  They’re trying to get rid of me.  I shan’t be easy in my mind until some one besides myself knows the secret.”

“Have no fear, Verot.  Monsieur le Prefet is bound to be back soon.  Meanwhile, I advise you to go to the infirmary and ask for a pick-me-up.”

The inspector seemed undecided what to do.  Once more he wiped away the perspiration that was trickling down his forehead.  Then, drawing himself up, he left the office.  When he was gone the secretary slipped the letter into a big bundle of papers that lay on the Prefect’s desk and went out by the door leading to his own room.

He had hardly closed it behind him when the other door opened once again and the inspector returned, spluttering: 

“Monsieur le Secretaire ... it’d be better if I showed you—­”

The unfortunate man was as white as a sheet.  His teeth were chattering.  When he saw that the secretary was gone, he tried to walk across to his private room.  But he was seized with an attack of weakness and sank into a chair, where he remained for some minutes, moaning helplessly: 

“What’s the matter with me? ...  Have I been poisoned, too? ...  Oh, I don’t like this; I don’t like the look of this!”

The desk stood within reach of his hand.  He took a pencil, drew a writing-pad toward him and began to scribble a few characters.  But he next stammered: 

“Why, no, it’s not worth while.  The Prefect will be reading my letter....  What on earth’s the matter with me.  I don’t like this at all!”

Suddenly he rose to his feet and called out: