Adolphe.  Well, hasn’t he had his spanking?

Mme. Catherine.  Yes, but it does not seem to have been enough, as he is still going around complaining.

Adolphe.  That’s a very popular interpretation of the whole intricate question.

Mme. Catherine.  Oh, pish!  You do nothing but philosophise about your vices, and while you are still at it the police come along and solve the riddle.  Now please leave me alone with my accounts!

Adolphe.  There’s Maurice now.

Mme. Catherine.  Yes, God bless him!

Maurice. [Enters, his face very flushed, and takes a seat near
Adolphe] Good evening.

(Mme. Catherine nods and goes on figuring.)

Adolphe.  Well, how’s everything with you?

Maurice.  Oh, beginning to clear up.

Adolphe. [Hands him a newspaper, which Maurice does not take] So you have read the paper?

Maurice.  No, I don’t read the papers any longer.  There’s nothing but infamies in them.

Adolphe.  But you had better read it first—–­

Maurice.  No, I won’t!  It’s nothing but lies—­But listen:  I have found a new clue.  Can you guess who committed that murder?

Adolphe.  Nobody, nobody!

Maurice.  Do you know where Henriette was during that quarter hour when the child was left alone?—­She was there!  And it is she who has done it!

Adolphe.  You are crazy, man.

Maurice.  Not I, but Henriette, is crazy.  She suspects me and has threatened to report me.

Adolphe.  Henriette was here a while ago, and she used the self-same words as you.  Both of you are crazy, for it has been proved by a second autopsy that the child died from a well-known disease, the name of which I have forgotten.

Maurice.  It isn’t true!

Adolphe.  That’s what she said also.  But the official report is printed in the paper.

Maurice.  A report?  Then they have made it up!

Adolphe.  And that’s also what she said.  The two of you are suffering from the same mental trouble.  But with her I got far enough to make her realise her own condition.

Maurice.  Where did she go?

Adolphe.  She went far away from here to begin a new life.

Maurice.  Hm, hm!—­Did you go to the funeral?  Adolphe.  I did.

Maurice.  Well?

Adolphe.  Well, Jeanne seemed resigned and didn’t have a hard word to say about you.

Maurice.  She is a good woman.

Adolphe.  Why did you desert her then?

Maurice.  Because I was crazy—­blown up with pride especially—­and then we had been drinking champagne—–­

Adolphe.  Can you understand now why Jeanne wept when you drank champagne?