t I did not know of Hippolyte Fauville's murder."

"Still, you knew M. Fauville."

"I used to know him, but we quarrelled."

"For what reason?"

"Family affairs."

"Family affairs! Were you related, then?"

"Yes. Hippolyte was my cousin."

"Your cousin! M. Fauville was your cousin! But ... but then ... Come, let
us have the rights of the matter. M. Fauville and his wife were the
children of two sisters, Elizabeth and Armande Roussel. Those two sisters
had been brought up with a first cousin called Victor."

"Yes, Victor Sauverand, whose grandfather was a Roussel. Victor Sauverand
married abroad and had two sons. One of them died fifteen years ago; the
other is myself."

M. Desmalions gave a start. His excitement was manifest. If that man was
telling the truth, if he was really the son of that Victor whose record
the police had not yet been able to trace, then, owing to this very fact,
since M. Fauville and his son were dead and Mme. Fauville, so to speak,
convicted of murder and forfeiting her rights, they had arrested the
final heir to Cosmo Mornington. But why, in a moment of madness, had he
voluntarily brought this crushing indictment against himself?

He continued:

"My statements seem to surprise you, Monsieur le Prefet. Perhaps they
throw a light on the mistake of which I am a victim?"

He expressed himself calmly, with great politeness and in a remarkably
well-bred voice; and he did not for a moment seem to suspect that his
revelations, on the contrary, were justifying the measures taken
against him.

Without replying to the question, the Prefect of Police asked him:

"So your real name is--"

"Gaston Sauverand."

"Why do you call yourself Hubert Lautier?"

The man had a second of indecision which did not escape so clear-sighted
an observer as M. Desmalions. He swayed from side to side, his eyes
flickered and he said:

"That does not concern the police; it concerns no one but myself."

M. Desmalions smiled:

"That is a poor argument. Will you use the same when I ask you why you
live in hiding, why you left the Avenue du Roule, where you used to live,
without leaving an address behind you, and why you receive your letters
at the post-office under initials?"

"Yes, Monsieur le Prefet, those are matters of a private character, which
affect only my conscience. You have no right to question me about them."

"That is the exact reply which we are constantly receiving at every
moment from you