tempt on her life?"

"No. She wrote a few words on a scrap of paper, saying that, on thinking
it over, she advised us to ask a certain M. Langernault about the
mysterious letters. He was the only friend that she had known her husband
to possess, or at any rate the only one whom he would have called, 'My
dear fellow,' or, 'My dear friend,' This M. Langernault could do no more
than prove her innocence and explain the terrible misunderstanding of
which she was the victim."

"But," said Don Luis, "if there is any one to prove her innocence, why
does she begin by opening her veins?"

"She doesn't care, she says. Her life is done for; and what she wants is
rest and death."

"Rest? Rest? There are other ways in which she can find it besides in
death. If the discovery of the truth is to spell her safety, perhaps the
truth is not impossible to discover."

"What are you saying, Chief? Have you guessed anything? Are you beginning
to understand?"

"Yes, very vaguely, but, all the same, the really unnatural accuracy of
those letters just seems to me a sign--"

He reflected for a moment and continued:

"Have they reexamined the erased addresses of the three letters?"

"Yes; and they managed to make out the name of Langernault."

"Where does this Langernault live?"

"According to Mme. Fauville, at the village of Damigni, in the Orme."

"Have they deciphered the word Damigni on one of the letters?"

"No, but they have the name of the nearest town."

"What town is that?"

"Alencon."

"And is that where you're going?"

"Yes, the Prefect of Police told me to go straightaway. I shall take the
train at the Invalides."

"You mean you will come with me in my motor."

"Eh?"

"We will both of us go, my lad. I want to be doing something; the
atmosphere of this house is deadly for me."

"What are you talking about, Chief?"

"Nothing. I know."

Half an hour later they were flying along the Versailles Road. Perenna
himself was driving his open car and driving it in such a way that
Mazeroux, almost stifling, kept blurting out, at intervals:

"Lord, what a pace! Dash it all, how you're letting her go, Chief! Aren't
you afraid of a smash? Remember the other day--"

They reached Alencon in time for lunch. When they had done, they went to
the chief post-office. Nobody knew the name of Langernault there.
Besides, Damigni had its own post-office, though the presumption was that
M. Langernault had his letters addressed _pos