d not prevent it, and now feels remorse. The probability of
two persons assisting at the robbery, a probability suggested by the
scratch, is now converted into undeniable certainty. _Ergo_, I was
right."

Prosper listening attentively tried hard to comprehend this monologue,
which he dared not interrupt.

"Let us seek," went on the fat man, "this second person, whose
conscience pricks him, and yet who dares not reveal anything."

He read the letter over several times, scanning the sentences, and
weighing every word.

"Evidently this letter was composed by a woman," he finally said. "Never
would one man doing another man a service, and sending him money, use
the word 'succor.' A man would have said, loan, money, or some other
equivalent, but succor, never. No one but a woman, ignorant of masculine
susceptibilities, would have naturally made use of this word to express
the idea it represents. As to the sentence, 'There is one heart,' and so
on, it could only have been written by a woman."

"You are mistaken, monsieur," said Prosper: "no woman is mixed up in
this affair."

M. Verduret paid no attention to this interruption, perhaps he did not
hear it; perhaps he did not care to argue the matter.

"Now, let us see if we can discover whence the printed words were taken
to compose this letter."

He approached the window, and began to study the pasted words with all
the scrupulous attention which an antiquarian would devote to an old,
half-effaced manuscript.

"Small type," he said, "very slender and clear; the paper is thin and
glossy. Consequently, these words have not been cut from a newspaper,
magazine, or even a novel. I have seen type like this, I recognize it at
once; Didot often uses it, so does Mme. de Tours."

He stopped with his mouth open, and eyes fixed, appealing laboriously to
his memory.

Suddenly he struck his forehead exultantly.

"Now I have it!" he cried; "now I have it! Why did I not see it at
once? These words have all been cut from a prayer-book. We will look, at
least, and then we shall be certain."

He moistened one of the words pasted on the paper with his tongue, and,
when it was sufficiently softened, he detached it with a pin. On the
other side of this word was printed a Latin word, _Deus_.

"Ah, ha," he said with a little laugh of satisfaction. "I knew it.
Father Taberet would be pleased to see this. But what has become of
the mutilated prayer-book? Can it have been burned? No, b