id not escape me; and
I continued my quest in this direction. A month later, I discovered,
among the ashes in the drawing-room fireplace, the torn half of an
English invoice. I gathered that a Stourbridge glass-blower, of the name
of John Howard, had supplied Daubrecq with a crystal bottle made after a
model. The word 'crystal' struck me at once. I went to Stourbridge, got
round the foreman of the glass-works and learnt that the stopper of this
bottle had been hollowed out inside, in accordance with the instruction
in the order, so as to leave a cavity, the existence of which would
escape observation."

Lupin nodded his head:

"The thing tallies beyond a doubt. Nevertheless, it did not seem to me,
that, even under the gilt layer... And then the hiding-place would be
very tiny!"

"Tiny, but large enough," she said. "On my return from England, I went
to the police-office to see Prasville, whose friendship for me had
remained unchanged. I did not hesitate to tell him, first, the reasons
which had driven my husband to suicide and, secondly, the object of
revenge which I was pursuing. When I informed him of my discoveries, he
jumped for joy; and I felt that his hatred for Daubrecq was as strong
as ever. I learnt from him that the list was written on a slip of
exceedingly thin foreign-post-paper, which, when rolled up into a sort
of pellet, would easily fit into an exceedingly limited space. Neither
he nor I had the least hesitation. We knew the hiding-place. We agreed
to act independently of each other, while continuing to correspond in
secret. I put him in touch with Clemence, the portress in the Square
Lamartine, who was entirely devoted to me..."

"But less so to Prasville," said Lupin, "for I can prove that she
betrays him."

"Now perhaps, but not at the start; and the police searches were
numerous. It was at that time, ten months ago, that Gilbert came into my
life again. A mother never loses her love for her son, whatever he may
do, whatever he may have done. And then Gilbert has such a way with
him... well, you know him. He cried, kissed my little Jacques, his
brother and I forgave him."

She stopped and, weary-voiced, with her eyes fixed on the floor,
continued:

"Would to Heaven that I had not forgiven him! Ah, if that hour could but
return, how readily I should find the horrible courage to turn him away!
My poor child... it was I who ruined him!..." And, pensively, "I should
have had that or any sort of c