“I was present when it was found,” said Dr. Cumberly.

“I know you were,” replied Max.  “In short, I discovered that the Palace Mansions murder case was my case, and that my case was the Palace Mansions case.  Eh bien! the mystery of the Paris draft did not detain me long.  A call upon the manager of the London County and Suburban Bank at Charing Cross revealed to me the whole plot.  The real Mrs. Leroux had never visited that bank; it was Madame Jean, posing as Mrs. Leroux, who went there and wrote the specimen signature, accompanied by a certain Soames, a butler"...

“I know him!” said Dr. Cumberly, grimly, “the blackguard!”

“Truly a blackguard, truly a big, dirty blackguard!  But it is such canaille as this that Mr. King discovers and uses for his own ends.  Paris society, I know for a fact; has many such a cankerworm in its heart.  Oh! it is a big case, a very big case.  Poor Mr. Leroux being confined to his bed—­ah!  I pity him—­I took the opportunity to visit his flat in Palace Mansions with Inspector Dunbar, and I obtained further evidence showing how the conspiracy had been conducted; yes.  For instance, Dunbar’s notebook showed me that Mr. Leroux was accustomed to receive letters from Mrs. Leroux whilst she was supposed to be in Paris.  I actually discovered some of those letters, and they bore no dates.  This, if they came from a woman, was not remarkable, but, upon one of them I found something that was remarkable.  It was still in its envelope, you must understand, this letter, its envelope bearing the Paris post-mark.  But impressed upon the paper I discovered a second post-mark, which, by means of a simple process, and the use of a magnifying glass, I made out to be Bow, East!”

“What!”

“Do you understand?  This letter, and others doubtless, had been enclosed in an envelope and despatched to Paris from Bow, East?  In short, Mrs. Leroux wrote those letters before she left London; Soames never posted them, but handed them over to some representative of Mr. King; this other, in turn, posted them to Madame Jean in Paris!  Morbleu! these are clever rogues!  This which I was fortunate enough to discover had been on top, you understand, this billet, and the outer envelope being very heavily stamped, that below retained the impress of the post-mark.”

“Poor Leroux!” said Cumberly again, with suppressed emotion.  “That unsuspecting, kindly soul has been drawn into the meshes of this conspiracy.  How they have been wound around him, until...”

“He knows the truth about his wife?” asked Max, suddenly glancing up at the physician, “that she is not in Paris?”

“I, myself, broke the painful news to him,” replied Cumberly—­“after a consultation with Miss Ryland and my daughter.  I considered it my duty to tell him, but I cannot disguise from myself that it hastened, if it did not directly occasion, his breakdown.”

“Yes, yes,” said Max; “we have been very fortunate however in diverting the attention of the press from the absence of Mrs. Leroux throughout this time.  Nom d’un nom!  Had they got to know about the scrap of paper found in the dead woman’s hand, I fear that this would have been impossible.”