to report. Imagine their master's anxiety until
he heard from them! As a matter of fact, their report was filed within
fifteen minutes after the explosion. M. Lepine has it in his pocket."

Delcasse stared, uncomprehending; but Lepine, his face suddenly
illumined, snatched out his pocket-book and produced the sheets of
yellow tissue.

"Ah, yes, certainly!" he cried. "I was blind not to see it! The report
was in a form agreed upon: 'We continue our trip as planned. All well.'
You will understand now, sir," he added, to Delcasse, "the reason for
the high opinion I entertain of this gentleman!"

"But that message was sent to Brussels," objected the Minister.

"It was sent 'restante.' A man was waiting at the post-office to receive
it and forward it instantly to Berlin."

Delcasse's face was a study, as he turned this over in his mind.

"What is your reading of the other message?" he asked, at last.

"My reading," answered Crochard, slowly, "is that, at the last moment,
the Emperor, appalled at the possible consequences, decided to forbid
the atrocity, to which he had, perhaps, been persuaded against his
better judgment, or in a moment of passion."

"And if the message had not been delayed, _La Liberte_ would have been
saved?"

"Precisely that, sir."

Delcasse's lips were twitching.

"You may be right," he said, thickly; "you may be right; but it seems
incredible. After all, it is merely guesswork!"

"You will pardon me, sir, but it is not guesswork," protested Crochard.
"M. Lepine will tell you that, in a case of this kind, it must be all or
nothing. Every detail, even to the slightest, the most insignificant,
must fit perfectly, or they are all worthless. If I am wrong in this
detail, I am wrong in all the others; if I am right in the others, I am
also right in this. They stand or fall together. And I believe they
will stand!"

The great Minister was gazing fascinated at the speaker; for the first
time, he caught a real glimpse of his tremendous personality.

"You mean, then," he said, finally, "that if any details we may discover
hereafter fail to fit this theory, the theory must be discarded?"

"Discarded utterly and without hesitation," agreed Crochard. "More than
that--"

A tap at the door interrupted him.

"Come in," said Delcasse.

His secretary entered, followed by a courier, carrying a portfolio.

"From Paris, sir," said the secretary, and the courier, with a bow, laid
the portfolio on the