“Police?” he asked.

Matrena Petrovna nodded her head and put her finger to her mouth in a naive way, as one would caution a child to silence.  Rouletabille smiled.

“How many are there?”

“Ten, relieved every six hours.”

“That makes forty unknown men around your house each day.”

“Not unknown,” she replied.  “Police.”

“Yet, in spite of them, you have had the affair of the bouquet in the general’s chamber.”

“No, there were only three then.  It is since the affair of the bouquet that there have been ten.”

“It hardly matters.  It is since these ten that you have had ...”

“What?” she demanded anxiously.

“You know well — the flooring.”

“Sh-h-h.”

She glanced at the door, watching the policeman statuesque before the setting sun.

“No one knows that — not even my husband.”

“So M. Koupriane told me.  Then it is you who have arranged for these ten police-agents?”

“Certainly.”

“Well, we will commence now by sending all these police away.”

Matrena Petrovna grasped his hand, astounded.

“Surely you don’t think of doing such a thing as that!”

“Yes.  We must know where the blow is coming from.  You have four different groups of people around here — the police, the domestics, your friends, your family.  Get rid of the police first.  They must not be permitted to cross your threshold.  They have not been able to protect you.  You have nothing to regret.  And if, after they are gone, something new turns up, we can leave M. Koupriane to conduct the inquiries without his being preoccupied here at the house.”

“But you do not know the admirable police of Koupriane.  These brave men have given proof of their devotion.”

“Madame, if I were face to face with a Nihilist the first thing I would ask myself about him would be, ‘Is he one of the police?’ The first thing I ask in the presence of an agent of your police is, ‘Is he not a Nihilist?’”

“But they will not wish to go.”

“Do any of them speak French?”

“Yes, their sergeant, who is out there in the salon.”

“Pray call him.”

Madame Trebassof walked into the salon and signaled.  The man appeared.  Rouletabille handed him a paper, which the other read.

“You will gather your men together and quit the villa,” ordered Rouletabille.  “You will return to the police Headguarters.  Say to M. Koupriane that I have commanded this and that I require all police service around the villa to be suspended until further orders.”

The man bowed, appeared not to understand, looked at Madame Trebassof and said to the young man: 

“At your service.”

He went out.

“Wait here a moment,” urged Madame Trebassof, who did not know how to take this abrupt action and whose anxiety was really painful to see.