The Prefect exclaimed: 

“What, Monsieur!  You don’t mean to pretend that Mme. Fauville is mixed up—­”

“Monsieur le Prefet, Mme. Fauville is the fourth person who may have seen the turquoise drop out of my ring.”

“And what then?  Have we the right, in the absence of any real proof, to suppose that a woman can kill her husband, that a mother can poison her son?”

“I am supposing nothing, Monsieur le Prefet.”

“Then—?”

Don Luis made no reply.  M. Desmalions did not conceal his irritation.  However, he said: 

“Very well; but I order you most positively to remain silent.  What questions am I to put to Mme. Fauville?”

“One only, Monsieur le Prefet:  ask Mme. Fauville if she knows any one, apart from her husband, who is descended from the sisters Roussel.”

“Why that question?”

“Because, if that descendant exists, it is not I who will inherit the millions, but he; and then it will be he and not I who would be interested in the removal of M. Fauville and his son.”

“Of course, of course,” muttered M. Desmalions.  “But even so, this new trail—­”

Mme. Fauville entered as he was speaking.  Her face remained charming and pretty in spite of the tears that had reddened her eyelids and impaired the freshness of her cheeks.  But her eyes expressed the scare of terror; and the obsession of the tragedy imparted to all her attractive personality, to her gait and to her movements, something feverish and spasmodic that was painful to look upon.

“Pray sit down, Madame,” said the Prefect, speaking with the height of deference, “and forgive me for inflicting any additional emotion upon you.  But time is precious; and we must do everything to make sure that the two victims whose loss you are mourning shall be avenged without delay.”

Tears were still streaming from her beautiful eyes; and, with a sob, she stammered: 

“If the police need me, Monsieur le Prefet—­”

“Yes, it is a question of obtaining a few particulars.  Your husband’s mother is dead, is she not?”

“Yes, Monsieur le Prefet.”

“Am I correct in saying that she came from Saint-Etienne and that her maiden name was Roussel?”

“Yes.”

“Elizabeth Roussel?”

“Yes.”

“Had your husband any brothers or sisters?”

“No.”

“Therefore there is no descendant of Elizabeth Roussel living?”

“No.”

“Very well.  But Elizabeth Roussel had two sisters, did she not?”

“Yes.”

“Ermeline Roussel, the elder, went abroad and was not heard of again.  The other, the younger—­”

“The other was called Armande Roussel.  She was my mother.”

“Eh?  What do you say?”

“I said my mother’s maiden name was Armande Roussel, and I married my cousin, the son of Elizabeth Roussel.”