kerchief and one of
his slippers on the sward, and the other slipper into the river.
His haste explains the incomplete execution of his manoeuvres. He
hurries--and commits blunder after blunder. He does not reflect
that his valet will explain about the empty bottles which he puts
on the table. He thinks he is turning wine into the five glasses
--it is vinegar, which will prove that no one has drunk out of them.
He ascends, puts forward the hands of the clock, but forgets to put
the hands and the striking bell in harmony. He rumples up the bed,
but he does it awkwardly--and it is impossible to reconcile these
three facts, the bed crumpled, the clock showing twenty minutes past
three, and the countess dressed as if it were mid-day. He adds as
much as he can to the disorder of the room. He smears a sheet with
blood; also the bed-curtains and furniture. Then he marks the door
with the imprint of a bloody hand, too distinct and precise not to
be done designedly. Is there so far a circumstance or detail of
the crime, which does not explain the count's guilt?"

"There's the hatchet," answered M. Plantat, "found on the second
story, the position of which seemed so strange to you."

"I am coming to that. There is one point in this mysterious affair,
which, thanks to you, is now clear. We know that Madame de Tremorel,
known to her husband, possessed and concealed a paper or a letter,
which he wanted, and which she obstinately refused to give up in
spite of all his entreaties. You have told us that the anxiety
--perhaps the necessity--to have this paper, was a powerful motive
of the crime. We will not be rash then in supposing that the
importance of this paper was immense--entirely beyond an ordinary
affair. It must have been, somehow, very damaging to one or the
other. To whom? To both, or only the count? Here I am reduced to
conjectures. It is certain that it was a menace--capable of being
executed at any moment--suspended over the head of him or them
concerned by it. Madame de Tremorel surely regarded this paper
either as a security, or as a terrible arm which put her husband
at her mercy. It was surely to deliver himself from this perpetual
menace that the count killed his wife."

The logic was so clear, the last words brought the evidence out so
lucidly and forcibly, that his hearers were struck with admiration.
They both cried:

"Very good!"

"Now," resumed M. Lecoq, "from the various elements which have
served to fo