On the afternoon of that day Fenayrou, his wife and his brother sent
the children to their grandmother and left Paris for Chatou at three
o'clock. Arrived there, they went to the villa, Fenayrou carrying
the twenty-six feet of gas-piping wound round him like some huge
hunting-horn. He spent the afternoon in beating out the piping till it
was flat, and in making a gag. He tried to take up the flooring in the
kitchen, but this plan for the concealment of the body was abandoned
in favour of the river. As soon as these preparations, in which he was
assisted by his two relatives, had been completed, Fenayrou placed a
candle, some matches and the sword-stick on the drawing-room table and
returned to Paris.

The three conspirators dined together heartily in the Avenue de
Clichy--soup, fish, entree, sweet and cheese, washed down by a bottle
of claret and a pint of burgundy, coffee to follow, with a glass of
chartreuse for Madame. To the waiter the party seemed in the best of
spirits. Dinner ended, the two men returned to Chatou by the 7.35 train,
leaving Gabrielle to follow an hour later with Aubert. Fenayrou had
taken three second-class return tickets for his wife, his brother and
himself, and a single for their visitor. It was during the interval
between the departure of her husband and her meeting with Aubert that
Mme. Fenayrou went into the church of St. Louis d'Antin and prayed.

At half-past eight she met Aubert at the St. Lazare Station, gave
him his ticket and the two set out for Chatou--a strange journey Mme.
Fenayrou was asked what they talked about in the railway carriage. "Mere
nothings," she replied. Aubert abused her mother; for her own part, she
was very agitated--tres emotionnee. It was about half-past nine when
they reached their destination. The sight of the little villa pleased
Aubert.

"Ah!" he said, "this is good. I should like a house like this and
twenty thousand francs a year!" As he entered the hall, surprised at
the darkness, he exclaimed: "The devil! it's precious dark! 'tu sais,
Gabrielle, que je ne suis pas un heros d'aventure.'" The woman pushed
him into the drawing-room. He struck a match on his trousers. Fenayrou,
who had been lurking in the darkness in his shirt sleeves, made a blow
at him with the hammer, but it was ineffectual. A struggle ensued. The
room was plunged in darkness. Gabrielle waited outside. After a little,
her husband called for a light; she came in and lit a candle on the