ce
that counts; it is the one incontestable proof which it would be no good
copying or even photographing, for its genuineness can be tested most
absolutely. But, all the same, the other proofs are dangerous. They
have already been enough to do away with two deputies. And Daubrecq
is marvelously clever at turning this fact to account. He selects
his victim, frightens him out of his senses, points out to him the
inevitable scandal; and the victim pays the required sum. Or else he
kills himself, as my husband did. Do you understand now?"

"Yes," said Lupin.

And, in the silence that followed, he drew a mental picture of
Daubrecq's life. He saw him the owner of that list, using his power,
gradually emerging from the shadow, lavishly squandering the money
which he extorted from his victims, securing his election as a
district-councillor and deputy, holding sway by dint of threats
and terror, unpunished, invulnerable, unattackable, feared by the
government, which would rather submit to his orders than declare war
upon him, respected by the judicial authorities: so powerful, in a word,
that Prasville had been appointed secretary-general of police, over the
heads of all who had prior claims, for the sole reason that he hated
Daubrecq with a personal hatred.

"And you saw him again?" he asked.

"I saw him again. I had to. My husband was dead, but his honour remained
untouched. Nobody suspected the truth. In order at least to defend the
name which he left me, I accepted my first interview with Daubrecq."

"Your first, yes, for there have been others."

"Many others," she said, in a strained voice, "yes, many others... at
the theatre... or in the evening, at Enghien... or else in Paris, at
night ... for I was ashamed to meet that man and I did not want people
to know it... But it was necessary... A duty more imperative than any
other commanded it: the duty of avenging my husband..."

She bent over Lupin and, eagerly:

"Yes, revenge has been the motive of my conduct and the sole
preoccupation of my life. To avenge my husband, to avenge my ruined son,
to avenge myself for all the harm that he has done me: I had no other
dream, no other object in life. That is what I wanted: to see that man
crushed, reduced to poverty, to tears--as though he still knew how to
cry!--sobbing in the throes of despair..."

"You wanted his death," said Lupin, remembering the scene between them
in Daubrecq's study.

"No, not his death. I have